


Snowstorm

by ThatBishLizzie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Crack Fic, F/M, Modern AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Vice Versa Trope, holiday fluff, just for fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28019295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatBishLizzie/pseuds/ThatBishLizzie
Summary: This idea was suggested to me by Super_Spartan95, to have Jon and Dany switch places.As I was trying to come up with an idea for a lighthearted holiday fluff story, this one kept pulling at me.After a bad breakup, Jon goes to Kings Landing to spend the Holiday Season with his cousin Robb.Daenerys lives there, and was passed up for a promotion that she should have gotten, so she quit her job. Now she’s depressed and feels lost.They both go to a holiday party, neither of them is in a mood for it, and they both see a shooting star at the same party. It starts to snow. They both wish that they had a different life, and the wish gets granted.Just a fun holiday crack fic.All characters and places are property of George R.R. Martin, Dan Weiss and David Benioff, HBO, etc.
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen & Rhaegar Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen & Viserys Targaryen, Jon Snow & Arya Stark, Jon Snow & Robb Stark, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Ygritte(past), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Talisa Maegyr/Robb Stark
Comments: 242
Kudos: 129





	1. 1

Jon 

The air in Kings Landing was not particularly fresh. It was the first thing Jon noticed as he stepped out of the train station. Back at Winterfell, and even in the surrounding town, the air was clean, almost sweet. Full of snow and pine, balsam and fir. Here, the winds were not icy blasts, as they were at home, but were rank with body odor and sewage, clashing perfumes, food from carts on every corner and all along the crowded streets. It was chilly, but nowhere near as cold as back North. Everywhere, artificial lights covered artificial trees. It worked for him. Artificial cheer. That’s what he needed. 

He had come to Kings Landing for that reason. His cousin Robb had suggested he come, and his family, In their supportive way, had said a change of scenery would do him some good. He had readily agreed. Their comfort was offered in love, they cared about him. He knew that. But it was no comfort. It only grated on nerves already sore and aching. 

And really, getting dumped by his girlfriend right before the holidays was a bummer, but other people were suffering, all over the world. It certainly wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. Nonetheless, it stung. No. It more than stung. He felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart.

He knew Ygritte was a free spirit. She’d certainly told him many times, that freedom was the single most important thing to her. That she wanted to live, and experience all the world had to offer. 

Jon just didn’t realize that she meant to be free from him. But that wasn’t fair, he thought. She hadn’t broken up with him to be free from him. Not exactly. 

But he’d never lied to her, either. He had told her he wanted marriage, and children. To build a home and settle into it, raise a family and his beloved wolf. 

Maybe they both expected the other to change. And that wasn’t fair. Not to either of them. 

He took a deep breath, as the heaviness in his chest threatened to pull him under. He had to let it go. He had proposed. She had turned him down. They’d argued. She’d packed her things and left. And now there was a weight in him that wouldn’t lift. 

Robb would likely try to cheer him up, too, but Robb had his job as an ad executive, and his beautiful new wife, to take up far too much of his time. Robb would never be able to spend the kind of concentrated energy that his cousins Arya and Sansa, home on Winter Break, and Bran, with all his free time as only a teenager could, or his friends who were single, had been exerting to help him feel better. His mother tried to comfort him as well, and this hurt most of all. She was a widow, surely her heartbreak must be far worse than his. He’d never known his father, who had died in an accident before he was born. 

Even his Aunt Cat had been polite, and that was the final straw. Cat Stark had little love for anyone but her husband, her children, and those she considered her close friends, and Jon, she had made clear, did not make the cut. 

He knew it was only insecurity; being a little older than her son Robb, Jon represented a threat to her children’s inheritance. As if Jon would try to claim Winterfell, the castle that was his family’s greatest heirloom. Her husband, Jon’s beloved Uncle Ned, had always said that his sister Lyanna and her only son Jon, would always be welcome there. 

Jon had no intention of taking the castle from Robb, but when Robb had moved into the capitol and claimed his mother’s brownstone, Cat had grown colder to Jon than she’d ever been. 

So when she’d asked Jon, the last time he’d dragged himself to see them, to please have a seat, join them, did he want some coffee? She made sure to have that strong dark roast he liked, please, Jon, have some, would you like some cake?...he knew, down in his bones, that she, like everyone else, pitied him. 

And that, he couldn’t stand. So when Robb had invited him to spend the holiday season with him, he’d jumped at the opportunity. He’d closed the doors of his little business and headed out. 

He didn’t have a lot of business during the holiday season anyway, and his next contract wasn’t set to begin work until spring. The small company was new, tentatively prosperous, and gave him satisfying work. It had been an architectural firm originally, that had been the plan. But most of his business came from flipping houses, either modernizing the ancient estates scattered throughout the North or the townhouses in Wintertown, often with the aim of keeping the spirit of the old and yet the amenities of the new. Two years in, and he had yet to build a house as he wanted. 

He shook his head again, as if to shake the thoughts loose. This train of thought led him to the land he’d bought. A clearing near enough to the wolfswood to smell the pines in winter, to hear the trees in the summer, blowing in the wind, sounding almost like an ocean. The property that was sylvan and untouched, had a waterfall and swimming hole. The blueprints sitting in his drawer at his office. The dream of a wife and family, and a home that was theirs alone. 

Not that there was anything wrong with the heirloom estates and tenth generation townhouses that he worked to modernize. There was a kind of tradition to them. A connection to the past. To family. But with this house he wanted to build, he had felt as if he were standing, not at the end of a line, but at the start of something new. Something his own, that he’d thought he could build with Ygritte. 

Now that was over, and he knew he’d have to let go and move on. 

Jon knew he should stop at Robb’s place and spend some time there. And he would, but he really couldn’t bring himself to do that just yet. He’d booked a room at the luxurious Red Keep, a hotel that had once been the seat of Kings and Queens, back when Westeros had been run by a feudal system. They’d abolished that long ago, in favor of a more democratically elected rulership of councils and officials, but all the lords and royals had kept their properties, and the Targaryens had turned theirs into luxury hotels a few generations before. 

Jon needed to get to his room. Maybe have a drink or two or twelve. He wasn’t ready to face Robb and his newlywed bliss. Robb had suffered a skiing accident two years before, and went through months and months of physical therapy for a shattered leg. 

The doctor who owned and operated the clinic for physical and occupational therapy, took a personal interest in Robb’s recovery, and, as she happened to be stunningly gorgeous, Robb took a personal interest in her. 

Jon couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Robb, gushing on the phone, about his doctor. 

Such conversational petit fours as “she looks like a doe. I’m very serious. Imagine if every beautiful quality a doe has, was in a human being.” And “she’s so compassionate, and fierce, and she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” And “I found out her first name is Talisa. Isn’t that the most beautiful name you’ve ever heard?” Jon figured Robb used the word ‘beautiful’ more often since meeting her, than in the entirety of his life before that, combined. 

“I asked her whether she prefers ‘Tal’ or ‘Lisa,’” he’d gushed one evening, as Jon had been finishing up an emergency water main break at Deepwood Motte, only partially attentive to the sighing of his cousin in his Bluetooth.

“Yeah? What’d she say?” 

“She said ‘Dr. works just fine,’” Robb said. “I’m telling you, Jon, I love this woman.” 

Jon hadn’t paid much attention; Robb had always been popular with girls, and he had loved them back. 

But after his full recovery, he’d respectfully told Talisa that if she truly wanted nothing more to do with him, he would back off and let her be. But of course she hadn’t. She had fallen in love with him as well, and now that he wasn’t her patient, they could act on their feelings. 

Leave it to Robb to turn a terrible accident and a shattered leg into finding his soul mate, Jon thought, and as bitter as he was about his own situation, he couldn’t help but to be happy for his cousin. 

Not happy enough to spend his first night in the crowded dirty city at Robb’s house watching him and his wife exchange adoring glances. 

Jon checked into his room, keeping his head down to avoid looking at the other guests. Couples and families, excited about their big city vacation. Jon didn’t begrudge them their happiness, but nor did he have any desire to watch it. The room was decadent, as he’d expected. No one in Kings Landing came here for a homey, comfy, country ambiance, and Jon looked around; he couldn’t say he liked it. It was all cold impersonal luxury. But impersonal was what he’d come for. 

He sat down at the desk. He had to admit that the business amenities, such as a new state of the art computer, fully equipped, a conference room down the hall from his room that was available for booking, and a grand view of the brightly lit and ever moving city from the office space, were pretty top shelf. 

He called Robb, hoping to leave a message to let him know he’d arrived, but his cousin picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey, Jon! Are you here?” 

“Just got in.” 

“Great! Do you want to come over? Talisa made dinner, she makes this amazing -“

“Thank you, I appreciate it, but no. I’m too tired. It was a long trip.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I get that. Why don’t I come by after dinner? I’ll bring some beer, we can watch a movie or something.” 

“I appreciate it, but I’m just heading to bed.”

“Well...all right. But you’re coming on Friday, right?” 

“Friday?” 

“Our Holiday party.” 

Jon groaned. He’d forgotten about that damn party. He should have waited an extra few days, then he could have arrived after the party and that would be that. 

“Come on, Jon. You promised.” 

“Aye, I promised,” he muttered. He’d promised because Robb had asked him to attend on a zoom call with their entire fucking family and Jon was trying to play the “I’m ok, I want a change of scenery to help me feel better” optimist. Trying to play the role of a person who expected to feel better at some point. 

“Jon?” 

“All right, all right. I’ll go.” 

“Yes! You won’t regret it, Jon. We go all out.”

“Good night,” Jon responded. “I’ll see you Friday.” 

He hung up, pretending he hadn’t heard Robb’s protestations that they could see each other before that. 

Next, he sent a text to Arya. He was not up to conversation, and calling Winterfell was therefore a risk.

Jon: Hey. I’m at Kings Landing. Checked in. Safe and sound. 

Arya responded immediately. 

Arya: Awesome! Ghost misses you, but he’s curled up with Nymeria by the fireplace. I hope it’s ok I gave him bacon. 

Jon: You’re going to spoil him. Don’t come crying to me when he’s in your face when you try to eat anything. 

Arya: LOL. I won’t. Have fun. I love you. 

Jon smiled a little. 

Jon: Love you too. 

He plugged his phone into the charger and turned off all the lights. He kicked off his shoes, peeling his clothes off and tossing them to the floor as he walked toward his bed, climbing in, pulling the covers over his head, and going to sleep.

Daenerys 

Now she’d done it. 

Daenerys wasn’t even sure yet if she regretted her actions, she was still in shock, as if it hadn’t sunken in yet. She’d had two weeks to absorb it, and then another two days of pure leisure, and yet...nothing. She felt nothing. 

Two weeks and two days ago, she’d have said she loved her job. She’d been there for three years, and had won every case she’d been on. She’d devised a better filing system than what they’d been doing before she had been hired. She’d been told by the partners that she was one of their MVPs. 

When Stannis Baratheon had retired, she was certain she’d be offered his position. She knew she’d worked for it, she’d spent entire nights at the office, clocked more hours than anyone else there, except the partners. 

She’d overheard her colleagues in the washroom saying it would definitely be hers. The only other attorney in the entire firm who Daenerys thought might get it instead, was Tyrion Lannister. 

He had a perfect record, had never lost a case in his entire career, and had a mind like a razor. If he’d been given the promotion, Daenerys thought she could have handled it. 

But when Petyr Baelish and Mace Tyrell announced that the new partner would be Joffrey Baratheon...

Daenerys had literally seen red for a moment. She had a wild image in her head of burning down the office. 

Which of course, she hadn’t. That was a bit much, even for her. 

What she had done instead, was tender her resignation and two weeks’ notice. 

Joffrey Baratheon was a playboy. He was irresponsible. He never did his own research for a single case. He had hit on every female there, including herself. He’d been the target of sexual harassment suits four different times. Daenerys knew his uncle Stannis had advised against making Joffrey a partner. 

A few of her colleagues...former colleagues, she reminded herself, had joked that they simply didn’t want to change the company name or stationery. 

Some whispered that it was because of Joffrey’s mother. Cersei Lannister was a force to be reckoned with. She’d kept her maiden name when she’d married Robert Baratheon, had worked as a lawyer in her youth, then had taken a few years to focus on her children. When she returned to the sphere of law, it was not to go back to defending cases; instead she had a television show. She was a legal commentator and political journalist. She would positively skin people alive with that tongue of hers, and some thought that the partners wanted to be on her good side, and so had promoted her son. 

Mace Tyrell had stumblingly taken Daenerys aside after the announcement, and explained that her work was exemplary but after all, she hadn’t gone straight into practicing law from college, instead doing all that non profit work with civil rights groups in Essos, which had been wonderful on her resume, and they admired her work, of course they did, but Joffrey had come straight to the firm from college. 

Whatever the reason, be it Joffrey’s relationships with Stannis or Cersei, or Dany’s years in Essos fighting it out with their leaders over sweat shops and human trafficking, Daenerys knew Joffrey didn’t deserve it, and she did. And she was done with this place. 

They’d thrown her a party, promised her a good reference, offered her a severance package which was bizarre to her, as she had been the one to resign, until Baelish had casually reminded her of the confidentiality clause in her original contract. She had been offended. She knew there were some illicit things they practiced and shouldn’t, but she certainly wasn’t going to share any of it. The severance was some kind of blackmail money. Annoyed, she had reminded him that she had professional integrity and had no intention of doing anything to harm the company. 

Out of sheer pettiness, she had not stayed a minute past closing time in the entire two weeks. 

Then she’d gone out with her best friend Missandei, who worked for the embassy handling laws and policies with foreign countries, and gotten thoroughly drunk on margaritas. Missandei told her that she could come work with her. 

“They’d hire you in a heartbeat,” she said. “They certainly never counted it as a bad thing that we fought to close the sweat shops and human trafficking rings. They’d see it as relevant experience. You should be working where you’re valued.” 

Daenerys was grateful, but she really thought it best to just be alone for a few weeks, chewing on her rage. 

She’d told her brother Rhaegar about it, and he’d chuckled. “So you quit?” He sighed. “You and your dreadful temper.” 

“What would you have done?” She demanded. 

“I’d have asked for a meeting to discuss my future with the company. You’re one of their best, and they know it. They could have given you options, and you could have decided from there.” 

“Well, it’s done,” she’d snapped. 

He was sympathetic, but too amused for her liking. He didn’t think she was wrong, per se. Just impulsive. 

Well, what of it? She thought, stabbing one of the olives in her third dirty martini. She’d always been impulsive. 

But now, as she contemplated ordering a fourth martini, she wondered if it had been a mistake to quit. She still couldn’t feel any regret. In fact, she’d had a sense of satisfaction knowing that the company would likely miss her. But now she felt nothing. No regret, no satisfaction, only a vague sense of being adrift. 

What if they thought her quitting was unprofessional? A tantrum? 

It didn’t matter now, she told herself sharply, and ordered that fourth martini. She wondered what she must look like, throwing back martinis, alone, in the lounge of her family’s hotel? 

She was not up for company, not in the least, and she really didn’t care what she looked like to random tourists. 

It’s not like I have work tomorrow, she thought, giggling. 

Her phone buzzed and she sighed, lifting it. 

A dozen texts from her former colleagues. Mostly asking questions about details concerning torts or some other thing that they’d come to her several times a day when she’d been there. 

Ask Joffrey, she’d thought spitefully. 

One text from Tyrion Lannister. 

“I hope you’re doing well. We miss you.” 

That touched her, but she was a little angry at him too. He could have recommended her instead of his walking liability of a nephew. But she knew that was unfair. They’d passed over Tyrion, too, and if he’d gotten the promotion she wouldn’t have quit over it. The man was a legend in the courtroom. 

A new text came up, from Talisa. She smiled faintly in affection. She’d met Talisa in Essos, where she’d been working with Doctors Without Borders, to treat the women and girls Daenerys and Missandei had rescued from human trafficking rings. 

Daenerys liked Talisa a lot, and had felt terrible when she’d missed her wedding, but it couldn’t be helped. She was pulling all nighters at work for a case. Her client had been accused of murder, and Daenerys knew he was innocent. The man’s entire life and future hung in the balance. Talisa had understood, of course. Talisa always understood, she and Missandei were the most compassionate people she’d ever known.

Talisa: So I know you aren’t working on Friday ;-) Come to my party! It’s our first party as a married couple, and we’re really excited. I understand if you can’t, but...please?

Daenerys sighed. 

Daenerys: I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?

Talisa: Just bring yourself, sweetie. Xoxo.

Daenerys sighed. It wasn’t the worst thing, to go to a party. She hadn’t been to a party, outside office parties, in years. 

The weather forecast was threatening snow on Friday, the first snow of the year, at least in Kings Landing. Getting transportation would be fun, she thought. But she could always have one of the hotel’s company cars pick her up at the party. 

She lived at the hotel, in one of the residential penthouses, but she tried not to take too much advantage of the amenities. Her brother Viserys had never even tried to get a profession, and used every amenity, bought properties and yachts, and once he bought some island off the coast of Essos. The man lived for pleasure. 

Rhaegar by contrast, was serious, hard working, dedicated to keeping the family’s businesses afloat. Not that it was too hard, they’d inherited the properties their grandfather had converted into luxury hotels. 

All three of them had inherited shares; Rhaegar had thrown all his energy into the business, and Viserys, none. Daenerys was interested enough, but had hoped to make a name for herself, separate from her family. 

And now here she was, jobless, drunk, and debating whether to use the hotel’s car service to bring her home from a party, having quit her job out of anger, just like the spoiled heiress she didn’t want to be. 

She stood, swaying a little, reached into her purse to lay some cash on the table for a tip, and stumbled toward the elevator. She always tipped. Always. She had worked as a waitress during college, for which Viserys had mocked her mercilessly, but she thought that if they were going to have thousands of people working for them performing services, they should really know what that was like. After a few years of that, she’d told Rhaegar that if he didn’t pay a proper wage to their servers, they deserved to go under. 

“They shouldn’t have to depend on tips,” she’d ranted. “What if someone doesn’t tip? Then what?” 

Rhaegar hadn’t really argued with her, but Viserys in his infinite snobbery had argued with her, that servers make more on tips anyway, to which Daenerys shot back that she wasn’t saying they shouldn’t be allowed to accept tips; only that they shouldn’t spend an hour and a half at a table bending over backwards to make the customers happy, and then receive no payment. 

“It’s like you look for things to argue with people about,” Viserys had snapped. “You picked the right profession.” 

The fallout was that Rhaegar had done as Daenerys suggested, paid a competitive wage and included benefits, and their hotels had won “Best Place to Work” in multiple surveys for the last six years, and Rhaegar had been named “CEO of the Year” four times. 

Daenerys entered her key card into the elevator that would bring her to her penthouse, and stumbled into her room, falling across her bed. She kicked off her shoes, wondering for the fifteenth time in as many minutes if she’d made a mistake quitting her job. She didn’t have time to ponder further, as sleep swamped her thoughts in its heavy grasp.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany are both at a party. They wake up and they have switched bodies.

Jon 

Robb and Talisa had gone all out in decorating the brownstone, and Jon had to admit that if he’d been in any kind of mood for celebration, he would have loved it. Such care and detail had gone into everything. From outside, lights twinkled in every window, the wrought iron bannister was thick with garland, ribbons, and more lights. Inside, a giant tree fairly glowed with thousands of lights, and silver, green, gold, and red ornaments. Robb looked happy, and that was all Jon really cared about. He and his wife were both decked out in red and green, and had welcomed Jon as soon as he’d entered, as if he were a guest of honor. 

Robb’s colleagues started coming, and they talked about their ad campaigns. As they got drunker on cognac, they started singing jingles for commercials they’d written. Jon was feeling a little buzzed from the drinks as well, and he wondered if he should eat something. Robb and Talisa had set out a dazzling spread. He remembered quite clearly the rules Aunt Cat had gone over for festivities at Winterfell. 

“First, the charcuterie board,” her voice reminded him. “You need four cheeses, at least: one hard, one soft, one aged, and one bleu, and it’s best to have more, and also three meats, and you always want to include some fruit and vegetables for people with restrictions. Vary the crackers and keep nuts separate from everything else...”

Jon chuckled, shaking his head. Robb had taken that to heart. 

It was a luxurious spread. The lights were enchanting, and he wondered how it would be now, if Ygritte had said yes to his proposal. Would they have come together? Or would they be at Winterfell, attending Aunt Cat’s party instead? 

The thought chafed at unhealed wounds, and he got another drink. Everyone was getting drunk anyway, no one really noticed him except Robb and Talisa, who kept checking on him. 

Some girl had joined in the singing, and seven hells, her voice was like hot whiskey, smooth and potent. She was in the center of the group, who had hushed to listen, so all he could make out was a flash of platinum blonde hair. 

Jon had no idea if her voice was really that beautiful or if maybe he was drunker than he’d realized, but he certainly hadn’t ever felt uncomfortably aroused by an advertising jingle before. He walked up to the Brownstone’s rooftop, where it was empty and quiet. He could see a few stars. Not like the dazzling light show back North, but much clearer than from the city streets. A few other people had found their way here as well, either alone to smoke a cigarette, or couples whispering hotly to each other. 

Jon ignored them and stood at the edge of the roof, staring up at the stars, wondering if Ygritte was also watching the stars from Hardhome, where her family lived. 

He wished he hadn’t proposed at all. More, of course, he wished she’d accepted his proposal. And if she didn’t want to get married now, after three years together, what made him think she ever would? And was he willing to part with the idea of marriage, children, his own house built by his own hands? 

Downstairs, his cousin was celebrating his first holiday with his new wife. Plenty of people were there with spouses. Jon knew just being married wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted the connection, the magic he’d had with Ygritte. Was it really that important for two people to want the same things? 

He might have made a mistake. Because there was no way he was going to try to be with someone now. He was too hurt, too angry, and he still loved his ex. 

So he would be alone anyway. Why not just be with her? Accept her terms. Wasn’t it better to be with her, than alone and bitter? 

He wished that he could have been less stubborn. He wished, for the first time in his life, he could be someone else. 

He heard gasps all around him, and glanced up, in time to catch a shooting star flashing across the sky. Then, as if in answer, it started to snow. 

Daenerys 

She was drunk. She had come to Talisa’s party, hoping to stay for a drink or two then cut out, but instead she’d had a third drink and the rest was history. She hadn’t even realized she was thoroughly drunk until she’d sang some jingles along with Talisa’s husband and his friends. When she realized people had gone silent and were staring at her. 

She managed to slither away from the group, and overly friendly guests, grabbing her jacket. 

“You aren’t leaving,” Talisa said, approaching her with her gentle expression. 

“Oh. No, I just need air. I’m obviously embarrassing myself and too drunk to know it,” she added with a laugh. 

“Embarrassing yourself? Dany, everyone was singing! They stopped to listen because you sounded beautiful.” 

Daenerys giggled. “I doubt that, but thank you. I’ll be back. I just need to take a breath.” 

She walked up to the roof, then to the ledge. It was quiet here, just a few couples, smokers, one man standing at the opposite side of the roof. She allowed her eyes to travel the length of him. Gorgeous thick dark hair, and a truly superior butt...she turned away, and watched the stars. She did not need to complicate the mess she’d already made of her life. She was wondering again if she’d made a mistake in quitting her job. 

Maybe she’d been too stubborn. Wasn’t it better to have a job than to be cut from everything, aimless? 

But dammit, she had deserved that promotion! And if it had gone to someone more deserving, like Tyrion, or even equally deserving, she would not have been so angry. But Joffrey? 

And now she was angry again. She knew she had little to complain about. Her work in Essos, the plight of the people she’d met there, haunted her. And here she was, spoiled and pampered, quitting her job because someone else got the promotion she’d wanted. 

But dammit, Joffrey was spoiled and pampered too. She closed her eyes. She was fortunate, she knew that. 

She wondered though, how it would be to be someone else, someone...she gasped, as a star shot across the sky.

And then, it started to snow. 

Jon

Light poured into the windows, bathing the bed in sun. 

He growled, pulling the blankets over his head. He thought he’d pulled the blinds down the night before, stumbling drunk into his room. He could have sworn he had. The dusting of snow had grown heavier, all but a blizzard, and Jon had been unable to get a cab, and unwilling to stay at Robb’s. 

He could be happy for his cousin but still not have any desire to watch their marital bliss. These weren’t mutually exclusive feelings, he’d reasoned, and walked to the hotel. 

The panic over the snow had made him laugh, though he tried to hide it so as not to be rude. But this blizzard as they were calling it, was nothing compared to the storms they got up North. Bunch of babies, he’d thought. 

He sat up, squinting. The blinds were open, and that annoyed him, but...

_This is not my room._

For one thing, the windows were much larger, and there was a terrace. And as luxurious as his room was, this was a whole other level. There was a mosaic on the wall, and it looked like a genuine Valyrian piece. 

In fact, there were quite a few museum pieces around the room. Bright, full of violent color, against sedate champagne colored walls. No way the hotel’s management would put pieces like this in a guest’s room. Add to that, the room smelled like perfume. A vanity sat against one wall, where an array of bottles glittered in the sunlight. He knew those bottles. Sansa had haunted for a perfume from that boutique for months, finally getting one for her birthday, and she only wore it for special occasions. Yet the entire collection was right there. 

Had he gone home with a woman? He tried to piece together the night. No, he’d gone to his room, he was sure of it. 

He got out of the bed. It was an enormous bed, but the one in his room had been an impressive size as well, though it certainly wasn’t decked out with cashmere blankets. And this was cashmere, he’d know it anywhere, he’d gotten Ygritte a blue cashmere sweater as a gift. 

He walked through the room, the plush rug under his bare feet, and then, in a graceful arched doorway, he saw her. 

Gods, she was beautiful. Long, silvery blonde hair, a face that looked made for oil and canvas, stunning eyes that looked...were they? Yes, they were violet! 

_She’s a Targaryen!_

And what’s more, she was naked as a newborn, and _perfect,_ studying him with the an assessing expression. Then, as if she realized she was naked the same moment he had, her eyes widened.

He took a step toward her, and she took a step toward him, as if to reassure him...he reached to give her his pajama top, and realized he was naked too...then his heart started pounding. 

What the fuck? 

His body was...wrong, for want of a better word. His breathing was coming fast now, he must be dreaming, this must be a dream...there was no arched doorway, he realized, it was a _mirror. A mirror, and that perfect angelic vision of a woman was him!_

How much had he drank? _What_ had he drank? Had someone spiked the cognac? What the fuck was going on? 

The doorbell rang, and rang again, and again, and he shivered, wrapping himself in the cashmere blanket, and carefully walking toward the door. 

“Who is it?” He asked, and the voice that came out of his mouth terrified him almost as much as the rounded breasts he suddenly had, and he didn’t dare look lower. 

“It’s, you, I’d guess,” his own voice answered. He opened the door, and almost screamed. Because yes, the man standing in front of him, wearing his pajama bottoms and a jacket thrown on hastily, was himself. The doppelgänger took a look, then sighed deeply. “You need to let me in. We have a problem.”


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Daenerys make a plan, and get to know each other a little.

Daenerys

Dany was trying to breathe. Trying not to panic. She paced her living room, while this stranger in her body sat on her couch, wrapped in blankets, watching her pace. 

“I don’t know how this happened,” her body said, in her voice. 

“Nor do I. What’s your name?” 

“Jon Snow.” 

“Ok. Mine is Daenerys Targaryen.” She sat down, dropping her head in her hands. But it was his head. His hands. 

“Do you have to go to work?” Jon asked, and Daenerys started laughing. She couldn’t stop, and Jon was staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. 

“No, I quit my job,” she said, when she finally recovered. “What about you?”

“No. I’m on vacation. I own the company anyway.” 

“Ok. Ok, that’s good. Maybe we can just avoid seeing people until we fix this.”

Now Jon started laughing. When he calmed down, he pulled the cashmere blanket more closely to himself. “My cousin is going to be too busy to see too much of me, but he’ll start to worry if he doesn’t see me at all.” 

“Well, tell me a little about you. Maybe I can meet him and just...pretend I’m you. What’s his name?” 

“Robb Stark.”

“Robb Stark? Talisa’s husband?” 

“Yes! You know her?” He leaned forward now, and Daenerys wondered if she would ever get accustomed to looking at her own face on another person. 

“I do. Were you at that party last night?” 

“Yes. Were you?” 

She nodded. She didn’t remember seeing him, but...was he the guy with the gorgeous hair and butt she’d been watching on the roof?

“You were the girl who was singing,” he said. 

“A lot of people were singing,” she said, flushing. 

“Aye, but not like you.”

“Ok, I don’t say ‘aye’, I say yes. Or yeah.” 

“Well, I do.” 

“All right...do you smoke?” She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“No,” he said. “Well, on occasion, but -“

“Well, I don’t, so kindly refrain when you’re in my body. Are there any medicines you’re on? Any allergies?” 

“No,” he said. “You?” 

“No.” 

“Couldn’t we just...tell our friends and family what happened?” He asked.

A hysterical giggle rose in her throat. “Go on. Practice on me. I want to hear how it sounds.” 

He took a deep breath. “I’m actually Jon, but I’ve somehow gotten stuck in Daenerys Targaryen’s body, and she’s stuck in mine...no, you’re right. It sounds insane.” 

“Yeah, it does. I mean...Aye.” 

They both started laughing at the absurdity of their situation. 

“All right. We may as well get breakfast,” she said. 

“Sounds good. I...don’t have any money with me,” he indicated the blanket. “Did you bring my wallet?” 

“No, I ran out of there and straight here to see if my body was here, and if maybe I was murdered or tripping or something.” 

“You didn’t bring my key card? How will you get back in?” 

“You’ll get me another one.” 

“Me? How? I don’t own the damn hotel, they’re not going to -“ 

“I do,” she said quietly. “Well, I own a third of it. My brothers and I.” 

“Oh. Fuck me.” 

“Are you going to order breakfast?” 

“Oh. Oh, ok. What do you want?” 

“They know what I want. Tell them my usual and get whatever you want. And please put some clothes on. This is really weird enough, we don’t need to add to it.” 

Jon 

After ordering breakfast, he walked into Daenerys’ closet and was overwhelmed immediately. No one needed that many shoes. The closet was bigger than any closet had to be, and he started to go through the drawers, an uncomfortable heat stirring in him when he found her underwear drawer. He finally found some soft pants and a tee shirt, putting them on and trying not to look too hard into any of the floor to ceiling mirrors. He pulled all that silver hair into a ponytail and stepped out of the closet. 

“Better?” He asked. 

She was studying him critically. 

“You’re not going to go out like that,” she said. 

“Considering you ran out wearing pajama pants and a jacket, then came ringing the bell here like a lunatic, all of which is likely on camera, I’m thinking I owe you one.” 

“I was in a panic. I woke up in a strange apartment with some endowments I did _not_ have when I went to bed last night.” 

He flushed, wondering how much of him she’d seen. 

“Anyway, what’s wrong with what I’m wearing? It was in your closet.” 

“Um...that no bra look is not going to go over well.” 

Jon glanced down, realizing that she was correct. His nipples - _her nipples_ \- were taut and extremely visible under the tee shirt. 

“Fuck me,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, that’s how people will take it. Trust me on this one.” 

He flushed, glaring at her. “You could try to be a little less...” he searched for the words. 

“I’m just trying to help, Jon. If someone had been kind enough to warn me I’d be waking up with morning wood, I’d have been very grateful.” 

“You really don’t choose your words carefully at all, do you?” 

“Sure I do. When I’m at work. Or in my own body. But when I’m talking to someone inhabiting my body while I’ve somehow stumbled into his, I don’t have a ready made etiquette guide, and I’m thinking blunt honesty is best. And would it kill you to put on lipstick?” 

The bell rang, and Daenerys started to get up, then sat back down. 

“Best If you get that, actually. And don’t forget to tip.” 

“Where do you keep your cash?” 

She pointed to a little antique wooden box on a table near the door. “Petty cash is in there.” 

Jon walked to the box, opened it, saw a neat little stack of bills. 

“There’s nothing smaller than a twenty here.” 

“Well don’t be a damn cheapskate, Jon.” 

Muttering, he took a twenty from the top and opened the door. A boy of about eighteen or so wheeled the service cart into the room, and Jon noticed the boy’s eyes were fixed on his damn nipples, flushing when Jon caught him.

“Um...sorry. Good morning, Ms. Targaryen.” 

Jon handed him the twenty. “Aye. I mean...yeah. Thanks. Good morning.” 

The boy stumbled out, and Jon sat down heavily. 

Daenerys immediately started digging in, pouring coffee from the silver pot, gulping it. 

“Are you going to eat?” She asked. 

“I have a headache.” 

“Yeah - _Aye_ \- you need coffee.” 

“Do people just stare at your fucking nipples all day?” 

“No, because I wear a bra.” 

Muttering, he poured coffee. “I don’t think it’s going to be comfortable,” he told her, which seemed to hit her funny bone, as she started laughing, shaking her head. 

“They aren’t particularly comfortable,” she agreed. 

“So that’s my choice, then? Wearing a damn bra or having people stare at my tits.” 

She grinned, raising her coffee cup. “Welcome to womanhood, Jon Snow. And be prepared, they might just stare at your tits anyway.” 

“This is bullshit,” he muttered, making her laugh again. 

“ _Aye_ ,” She said emphatically, in an exaggerated manner that sounded less like him, and more like a pirate in an old movie. “Come on. I’m sure you’re accustomed to some staring.” 

“No,” he said stubbornly. 

“No? Do you even know what your ass looks like? It’s fucking gorgeous, like a marble statue. The rest of you is pretty easy on the eyes, too.” 

“Ok, stop,” he said, flushing. He drank his coffee. 

“So...are you seeing anyone?” 

He almost dropped his coffee cup. “Why?” He asked suspiciously. 

“Because I’m in your body, and I need to know if I have a girlfriend or boyfriend,” she said, in a tone so exaggeratedly patient he knew she was annoyed. 

He shook his head. “Not anymore,” he said dismally. “We broke up.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“You?” 

“No. I was a workaholic until two weeks ago.” 

“Why did you quit?” 

Anger crossed her features... _his_ features, really. “I was up for a promotion. They gave it to someone else.” 

“So you _quit_?” 

She sighed in annoyance. “They didn’t give it to someone who worked hard or had a good record. They gave it to this slimy spoiled trust fund kid -“

“Aren’t _you_ a trust fund kid?” 

Oh, now she was angry. He watched his own grey eyes as they lit with sudden fire. 

“I busted my ass, went to school, earned my degree, intentionally did _not_ work for my family’s business because I didn’t want to get perks just for being a Targaryen.” 

“I’m pretty sure this entire room is a perk for being a Targaryen.” 

“That may be, but I also lived in tiny flats with a toilet _in my kitchen,_ living on my wages. I also lived in a tent for two years in Essos. I also earned four different scholarships!” 

“Ok, ok. I didn’t know all that. Relax. I’m a trust fund kid, too, I’m not judging. My mother’s maiden name is Stark. So you went to school on scholarships?”

She deflated then. “No. I applied for them because I wanted to prove to myself I could earn them. On my _own_ merit. Then I turned them down but only allowed myself to spend the amount I’d have gotten if I’d accepted them, and my wages.” 

“Wages?” 

“Well, I had jobs. Mostly food service. But my family owns hotels, so I worked in housekeeping for awhile. I like to shop, so I worked in retail. I wanted to really understand what it was to be at the other side of it. But you know, I can’t really say I understand. I always had my family’s money to fall back on. It can never be the same as living it and not having that safety net.” 

“Why did you turn down the scholarships if you wanted to earn your own way?” He asked, begrudgingly intrigued. 

“Because...earning them, being given them, was enough to show I _could_ earn them. And helped provide a guide for budgeting. But I knew if I accepted them, someone else, who maybe wasn’t in my position, would be denied. I didn’t want to take the funds from someone who had worked as hard as I did but didn’t have a rich family to pay their way.” 

He studied her; disorienting to study his own face and try to gauge the spirit behind it.

“What about you?” She asked. 

“I never applied for scholarships, but I worked hard, and graduated with good grades.”

“What did you study?”

“Engineering, interior design, all electrical and plumbing...I’m an architect.” 

“Why did you break up with your significant other?” 

“She...I...do I really have to talk about it?” 

“It depends. If I’m talking to Robb and pretending to be you, can I get away with saying I don’t want to talk about it?” 

“Aye. Yeah. Yes. I hate talking about it.” 

“Ok, then it’s fine.”

“Anything about you I should know?” 

“I wear lipstick,” she said, grinning. “So you’d best start that. I’d never leave my place looking like you look right now. I’m trying to figure out what we’re going to tell people, for why we’re together all the time.”

“Together all the time?” 

“ _Aye,”_ she said. “We have to know each other well enough to _be_ each other.” 

“Fuck me.” 

“And stop saying that! I don’t say that.” 

“I need a cigarette.” 

“Well, suck it up, buttercup. I don’t smoke, and I’m not about to let you fill my lungs with that stinky crap.” 

He stared at her. “Did you just fucking call me buttercup?” 

She laughed. “We could come up with renovations. Say I hired you. I’ll pay you. If you’re interested. That way we can just answer texts of our own and be on standby to guide each other if we have to take a call.” 

“Renovations? This place is a fucking paradise. What would you renovate?” 

“I could use a bigger closet.” 

“Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“And an open plan.” 

“This sounds like a fuck ton of work.” 

“I’d be doing the physical stuff. I just need your know how.” 

“Then why would you pay me?”

She threw up her hands. “All right, what’s your plan?” She demanded. 

“I don’t know,” he said, exasperated. 

“We need a plan. We have to research this, find out how this happened, and how to fix it. In the meantime, we need to be able to answer our own texts. To be near each other if we have to take a call. To know each other well enough to pull this off, so we don’t get thrown into a psych ward for the holidays.” 

He nodded. “I agree. I just don’t...” he ran his hands through his hair. 

“We could say we’re dating.” 

“Robb is never going to believe I got another girlfriend so soon after Ygritte.”

“Fine. I’m out of suggestions.”

“Ok...let’s do the closet thing.” 

She gave a little squeak of excitement, that Jon found a little embarrassing that she’d managed to conjure from _his_ lungs. 

“So why are we going to say I was banging on your door with a jacket and pajama pants?” 

“We planned the closet thing last night, on the roof. We were both up there at the same time. Maybe I borrowed your phone after I called my car service, because I ran out of battery. I was scared to go home without a phone. We were drunk.”

“Why didn’t I share your car? We were going to the same place.” 

“You’re from the North, right? A little snow doesn’t bother you and you needed the air. And you didn’t want me to get any ideas, because you’re just coming out of a bad breakup.” 

Jon nodded, a little put off that she’d read him so well. “Aye, that sounds good.” He straightened up. “I mean, yes. Yes, that sounds plausible.” 

She laughed. “Very good. Now call for my key card. I’ll go wash up and put proper clothes on. I’ll get your things and bring them here.”

“Wait, what? Why would I stay here?” 

“I have an extra suite, you can stay in there. An extra bathroom too. I need to study you, and you need to study me. And if you’re not willing to slap on some lipstick, there’s no way you’ll learn to make a cut crease or do contouring.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Exactly. I’m going to do your makeup.” 

“You’re insane. You don’t even need makeup, you’re perfect.” 

She grinned. “Why thank you, Jon Snow. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Nonetheless, I wear makeup. And you have to learn how to wear heels.” 

“Fuck me - I mean...what do you say? What’s your pissed off curse word?” 

“Balls.” 

“That’s not a curse word.” 

“It is the way I say it.” 

He laughed. “If you say so.” 

She finished her coffee and stood, looking at him pointedly. 

“Call and get my key card,” she said.

After she walked him through what to say, and they’d gotten the key card, she left to get his things, and he pulled out her phone, checking to see if anything like this had happened to anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding a note here because my first chapter end notes kept carrying over! Thank you for reading! :-)


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They start to settle in, dealing with early challenges.

Jon 

Daenerys returned after an hour, carrying Jon’s knapsack, with damp hair and smelling suspiciously like some kind of fancy cologne. 

“I didn’t shave,” she announced as she walked into the sitting area and dropped herself onto the couch. “Do you shave? Or do you grow a beard?” 

“A short beard. I trim it.” 

“You’re going to have to show me how to do that.” She took in his appearance. “You didn’t shower. Or change.” 

“I felt awkward. I didn’t want to just...” he flushed. 

“What? Shower? So what’s the plan then? Go around smelling like a sewer? Because I can assure you, you _will_ start to stink if you don’t shower.” 

“I see you got right to it,” he said. 

“Of course I did. I shower every day. Don’t you?” 

“Every day, or every other day. Sometimes every two days if I have a lot of work.” 

“That explains why your hair is in such good condition.” 

“My hair?”

“You’re not stripping it of oils by daily washing, and you’re not heat styling it. I’m jealous. You don’t even need a conditioner.” 

“I don’t...whatever. You expect me to just get naked every day.” 

She laughed. “It’s the most efficient way to take a shower.” 

“It’s your body.” 

“Yes, and I like it to be clean. Jon, we are in a highly unique situation. We’re just going to have to get accustomed to it until we can get our bodies switched back.” 

“I’m not really comfortable with getting naked in your body,” he confessed. 

“I understand. I really do. It’s not like you’re taking advantage or being a pervert or anything. But you can’t be so squeamish. What happens when you use the bathroom?” 

“For fuck sake.” 

“It’s a real question. And a fair one. If you’re planning to stop showering, stop shaving - “

“Shaving?” 

“Ye - Aye. Shaving. Legs. Under the arms.”

“Seven hells.” 

“No more mani pedis -“

“Please be joking.” 

“Certainly no pube waxing.” 

“ _What?”_

She laughed brightly. “Nah, I’m just fucking with you now. I do sometimes trim the hedges if I have a hot date, but it’s been a long time.”

“I can’t do this.” 

“Me neither. Let’s switch back.” 

He groaned. “I get it. I’m just...” 

“I understand,” she repeated. “But we can’t just stop washing.” 

“Can I skip a day? Just...get used to it?” 

“Fine. Did you put deodorant and moisturizer on at least?” 

Muttering, he stalked into her room, found her deodorant on her vanity, and rubbed it into his underarms. Then he looked through all her jars and bottles, finding one that claimed it was “advanced night repair” and sloshed it onto his face.

He looked in the mirror, studying her face looking back at him. 

There were no lines, nothing that needed “repair”, it was like looking at a goddamn angel. 

_She’s crazy,_ he thought, searching for flaws and finding none. He figured she’d probably appreciate it if he brushed her teeth, and she’d obviously brushed his, if the minty scent that mingled with whatever cologne she’d worn was any indication. Then he rifled through her collection of perfumes, found one that smelled a little woodsy, and sprayed it on himself. Then he returned to the living room, where Daenerys was curled up in a decidedly feminine position, her legs tucked under her. She was looking at her phone, but put it down when he came in.

“I don’t sit like that,” he said. 

“I figured. You sit how you usually sit, so I can emulate you when we’re in front of other people.” 

He fell across the couch, relaxing, or trying to relax. “What did you spray on yourself?” He asked. 

“The hotel has complimentary shampoo, conditioner, little sample sized cologne. You packed bar soap, and nothing else. I used one of the colognes. It’s just vetiver and sandalwood. If you don’t use cologne I won’t wear it again.” 

“No, it’s all right. I want you to try to be as comfortable as possible.” 

“Thank you. I really appreciate that. Especially considering all my maintenance.” 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure.”

“What exactly is it you think are your flaws? Your moisturizer says it’s for advanced repair -“

“That’s for nighttime.” 

“But nothing needs repairing. I’m not saying this to flatter you. I’m legitimately curious. Do you really not know that you’re freakishly beautiful?” 

She laughed. “ _Freakishly_ beautiful?” 

“Aye- _YEAH-_ like outrageously, insanely beautiful. Like...abnormally beautiful. I tried to find whatever the fuck it is you think is a flaw. And there’s nothing.” 

“Did you look in that little round mirror?” 

“No, the mirror on your vanity.” 

“Well, next time, look in the little mirror. Turn it over, so you’re looking in the the magnifying side. Then look really close at the corners of my eyes.” 

“And will I see tiny trolls living there?” 

She laughed. “No. Lines. They’re really faint right now. But they won’t be faint forever. I smile too much, I laugh too much.” 

“You _worry_ too much, and you sound like a lunatic. If I have to look really close into a magnified reflection to see faint lines that are probably figments of your imagination -“ 

“It’s preventative. It makes me feel like I’ve got my shit together.” 

“Oh.” He digested that, nodding. “All right. I’ll try to use the moisturizer.” 

“Thank you.” 

“So...I tried to find any stories where something like this might have happened before.” 

“Oh!” She sat up straight, attentive. “Did you find anything?” 

“No. A lot of movies about it. But nothing helpful.” 

“Hm”, she grunted, sitting back. “Balls,” she muttered. 

He laughed. “I did see an ad online for a woman who says she does divination and helps remove curses, but she’s on vacation. She won’t be back until right before New Years.”

“Well, let’s try to book an appointment. And maybe watch the movies? Maybe we’ll get some ideas.” 

“All right.” 

“So...we were both on the roof. There was a shooting star!” She sat up straight again. “Jon...did you...wish anything? By any chance?” 

“I didn’t wish on the star, if that’s what you mean.” 

“No, I mean...before.” 

“Well, I was...” he tried to focus. He’d been drunk. And sad. He’d been thinking about Ygritte... _I wish I could be someone else..._

Fuck. 

“I may have...wished I was someone else.” 

“ _Balls!”_ She thundered, punching the couch. “So did I.” 

“Ok, so...all we need to do is wait for another shooting star. I see them pretty often up North.” 

“That may be, but we _don’t_ see them all that often in the city. There might have been something unusual about it. And then the snow right after...” 

“All right. We’ll talk to that woman. We’ll see what she can do. We’ll try to find out more about magic...” he shook his head. “There has to be something.” 

She nodded. “If there’s some kind of power that switched us, there must be some power that can switch us back.” 

Daenerys 

Daenerys was walking through her closet with Jon, showing him what she was hoping to change. He wanted to see blueprints. He needed to make sure he wasn’t going to be taking down load bearing beams or interfering with electrical wiring. 

Once they’d done that, and established they wouldn’t be able to start before Monday, they sat down on the couch, a little awkward. 

She felt a little badly that she’d been so forward with him about washing and the like. She was actually appreciative that he was so respectful, and she wondered if he felt she’d been disrespectful in her willingness to jump right in. 

She hadn’t ogled him or anything. Not much, anyway. She had to know what she was dealing with. The fact that he was quite frankly gorgeous, was only an academic point. Mostly. 

And she hadn’t taken too much personal pleasure in the washing part of it, she wanted to respect that this body wasn’t her own. She might have blushed a little when she’d gotten to...certain parts. She flushed now, thinking about it, then flashed a quick look at him, to see if he’d noticed, but he was sullenly looking at his phone. 

She had to know more about him. He had to know more about her. This would never work if they knew nothing about each other and then acted like stumbling fools around each other’s friends and family. 

“So tell me about your family,” she said, turning to him. 

He hesitated, and she sighed. She didn’t want to be impatient with him. She wasn’t comfortable with this situation either, any more than he was. But he seemed much more private than she was. More defensive. 

“Jon, I know this is hard,” she said softly. “And I imagine it’s harder for you. Because as we discussed, I have a lot more maintenance. We’re in my place, so it’s kind of an advantage for me. I don’t want to push you, and I know it’s hard to tell a stranger about your life, especially things you prefer to keep close to yourself. But I need to be able to know you. I need to be able to... _portray_ you. And I need you to be able to portray me. We don’t want to ruin each other. I don’t know you. I promise, for all the advantages I have in this situation, I’m scared too.” 

He looked at her, with her own eyes, and she could se he was softening; then the wall went up again. “You’re really good at reading people. You’re a therapist, aren’t you?” 

She laughed. “No.” 

“Detective?” 

“I’m a lawyer.” 

“Fuck me. I’m sorry. _Balls,”_ He said, and they both laughed. “So you can read people,” he said when their laughter subsided. “Must help when cross examining a witness.” 

“It does,” she said. “But I’m not trying to cross examine you, I promise. We are in a situation neither of us intended. I want us both to get out of it, safely, and whole. 

He nodded. “It’s hard for me to trust people. I trust my family...well, most of my family. And even then, I don’t really like to be open to people. And after what happened with Ygritte...it’s a lot harder.” 

“Would It help if I start?” 

“Maybe,” he said gratefully. 

“All right. My mother died in childbirth, and my father died a few months later of a cocaine overdose.” 

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago. I was born during a hurricane, and my mother, she was an older woman when she had me. My brother Rhaegar was twenty five when I was born. My brother Viserys was eight. They had us quite a few years apart. Viserys...I think he blamed me for our mother.” 

“You know that wasn’t your fault,” Jon said. 

“I know. Deep down, I know. But I think some part of me...blamed me, too.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jon repeated. 

To her surprise, and chagrin, a lump formed in her throat. “Let’s have some wine,” she said, and got up, retrieving two bottles and two glasses. She poured it, waiting until she felt she could continue. 

“Do you have a middle name?” He asked, as if seeing the undercurrent of distress, trying to lighten the mood, and she wondered if maybe he was pretty good at reading people, too.

“Yes. It’s Stormborn.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “That’s different.”

“Aye,” she said with a light smile. “So I was raised by my brother Rhaegar. He raised me and Viserys, really, and kept the company afloat. I think that’s why he never married. He was dating a girl, he never really talks about her. He got so caught up in me and Viserys, and working. A few years later she married someone else, and he just...never tried again.” 

She looked at him. “I know that wasn’t my fault either. But...I guess I always felt like I had something to prove.” 

Jon nodded. “I can see how that would happen. Are you close to them? Your brothers?” 

“A little. I love them. Rhaegar tried to make us feel loved and supported. He actually listens to me when I make suggestions. Viserys...” she hesitated. “Viserys loves me, but he resents me. For our mother, and also...Rhaegar doesn’t listen to his suggestions. It’s not Rhaegar’s fault. Viserys doesn’t really make all that many suggestions, and when he does, it’s usually for his own ends. He’s not a bad person. Just...lost...in a lot of ways he’s lost. I think he never really recovered from losing our mother. 

“Rhaegar tried to indulge him, I think. Viserys was a little boy, he lost both his parents, then there was this baby, me, taking up most of his brother’s time. He’s kind of missing something, and he tries to fill it with things.” She bit her lip. “I guess it’s the same for me. I tried to fill it with achievements. But it comes down to the same thing. Rhaegar tries to fill it with work. He feels like he has to do that for our family’s memory. And I...I never knew my parents. I never really felt their loss like Rhaegar and Viserys did. I was just born into all this privilege, and I never had to earn it, or pay in any way like my brothers did.” 

Jon was looking at her sympathetically, and at some point he’d taken her hand and was holding it. 

“That was heavy,” she said. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m...honored really. That you shared this with me. I’m sorry I...I know I should...tell you mine. I’m just...it’s hard for me to talk so openly.” 

“It’s usually hard for me too,” she said softly, still a little dazed that she’d dumped all that on him. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, surprising her; and by his expression, he’d surprised himself as well. 

“I’ll try to tell you...” 

“Jon, tell me when you’re ready. I want to know you. I want that because I want to do you justice while I’m here in your body. I want that because you listened so kindly and openly to mine. I want to know you because...we’re friends of a sort, now. But you don’t _owe_ me your story. When you’re ready...if you’re ready. You’ll tell me. Just give me enough to be you convincingly.” 

He nodded, and drank deeply from the wineglass. 

“So...dinner. We skipped lunch, and I’m starving. I’m thinking steaks. You like steak?” 

“Who doesn’t?” 

She shrugged. “Vegetarians. Vegans. People watching their cholesterol. People with religious-“ 

“I love steak,” he assured her. 

“Great. I’ll order dinner and we’ll watch one of those movies.”

“That sounds good to me.” 

She picked up the phone, then sighed and put it down. “You have to call. Once you’re up to showering and making yourself presentable in a manner that won’t make them think I’ve fallen into some kind of depression, you can introduce me to the team and tell them I’m expanding your closet. We’ll get the blueprints and then we can take turns ordering.” 

“All right,” he said in a sour voice that made her giggle. 

“Tomorrow night we’ll order pizza. Then I’ll call. Fair?” 

“Fair enough,” he said. He picked up her phone to place the call, and she turned on the television, muted, to look for one of these movies. 

He hung up, and was watching her scroll through the movies. 

“The Hot Chick,” He said, drawing a sharp look from her. 

“Excuse me?” 

He laughed, pointing at the screen. “It’s one of the movies on the list.” 

“Oh. Ok.” She shrugged, selecting the movie and settling back on the couch.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets Rhaegar, some shoppping and new challenges.

Jon 

After taking a shower, finally, Jon felt a little silly that he’d been so afraid to do it. He was also glad he’d used the extra bathroom rather than the outrageously large mini spa that was attached to her bedroom. That one was full of floor to ceiling mirrors, which would have made the experience much more nerve wracking. 

He wouldn’t mind taking a soak in her enormous tub, if he had his own body. It had jets to create a massage effect. The shower was decked out too, with a rainfall style showerhead and separate handheld with multiple settings. 

The extra bathroom wasn’t exactly sparse; the shower had the same accoutrements, if a little smaller than hers, and the tub was a gorgeous claw foot. 

But her following him in before he’d started, with a _basket_ of products, threw him off. 

Apparently he couldn’t wash his face with the same soap he used to wash the rest of him. There was a special, separate cream for washing the face. He had to use “ _this shampoo only_ ”, and then put a cream on after he’d shampooed his hair and rinsed it. He had to leave the cream on “especially the ends”, for five minutes, and then after the shower, he had to rub a serum onto his hair, especially the ends, she’d repeated, “or it will get frizzy”, and then a spray she called a “leave-in conditioner”. He had to brush his hair “starting at the bottom,” but he’d been so flummoxed by that ridiculousness, she’d sighed and said she would brush it for him. 

He had to shave his underarms, shave his legs, and put yet more creams on his face. Of course there was a different cream for under the eyes than the rest of her face, and separate creams for day and night, and a “pore refinisher,” which sounded suspiciously like she was fucking with him again, but alas, no, she was dead serious. And of course there was an order of applications, and she’d helpfully written “1st”, “2nd”, “3rd” etc in cobalt blue marker to remind him. Then he was supposed to rub an entirely different cream all over his body, and yet another one on his feet, and under no circumstances was he to put the cream for the body or feet, onto his face. “They’re formulated differently,” she’d explained, and when he called bullshit on that, she had elaborated that the body cream was also scented and the scent contained small amounts of alcohol, and that would dry out her face.

The whole thing sounded like hogwash to him. He was managing all right, he thought, despite the discomfort and annoyed arousal of washing and then rubbing cream into certain areas of her body. 

He finished up and tried to be patient as she brushed his hair, starting just as as she’d said, by brushing out tangles at the bottom then working her way up. Then, she started blowing all that hair with a dryer, pulling at it with a round brush. The process took about fifteen minutes, then she was putting some peachy looking cream makeup under his eyes, then another peachy looking cream makeup on the rest of his face. 

“Why two different creams?” He asked. “They’re the same color.” 

“One is concealer and the other is foundation,” she said. 

The lipstick was unpleasant, and uncomfortable. 

The look he gave her when she picked up the mascara made her giggle and put it back down. 

“Fine, no mascara.”

“You do all this every day?” 

“I do more than this, but I’m trying to work with you,” she said. 

Getting dressed was the worst. He immediately despised the bra, but the idea of people staring at his chest all day was decidedly worse.

Her jeans were tighter than he felt they needed to be, but he was able to find a cashmere sweater that covered the entire backside, so he was satisfied with that. 

Trying to walk in her ludicrous heels, he almost fell twice, and finally told her that unless she wanted him to break her leg, he’d need a lot more practice before trying this outside, and she’d relented, agreeing that since it had snowed, few would question her wearing flats, but she then had him choose from among a staggeringly immense collection of boots. He picked a pair that was rather funny looking, because they looked less painful than the others and had rubber soles. When he slid them on, he knew he’d made the right choice. They were incredibly soft and cozy, more comfortable than even his own steel toed boots, a fact she loudly pointed out when she put them on.

He was surprised she even owned shoes that made her feet look bigger, as opposed to her collection of dainty heels.

“They’re Uggs,” she said, as if that explained it, and he didn’t push the issue for fear she’d realize how silly they looked and go back to trying to make him wear one of the other flashy torture devices she apparently covered her feet with. 

She was wearing his jeans with a blue henley, and work boots. He suspected she’d put some of her eye cream on his face, and she’d done something with his hair that made it more glossy than usual, but he left it alone. 

“When can we expect the rest of your luggage?” She asked.

“My luggage?” 

“All I found in your room was your knapsack,” she said. 

“Aye, that’s all I brought.” 

She stared at him. “You’re joking,” she finally said. “There are three pairs of jeans, five shirts, three undershirts, some underwear and socks, and two pairs of sweat pants.” 

“Thanks for the inventory. I’m not a clothes horse, Daenerys.” 

“Ok...no.” She sat down, and started tapping at her phone. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m making an expense account, with your name on it. It’ll be good anyway, because we’ll use it for the supplies when we’re working on my closet. But this is just...no.”

“Look, I’m trying to follow all your ridiculous rules -“

“If you don’t follow my rules, there could be permanent negative consequences for my skin.” She ignored his scoffing grunt, and continued. “And we’re in a place where everyone knows me. If you walk out like you wanted to, people would be sending a wellness check. We can relax some of the usual standards. I just quit my job, after all. But my buying some clothes or wearing cologne will not have any permanent negative consequences, and I can always wear your clothes when I see Robb.” 

Jon sighed heavily. “You put that undereye stuff on my skin. And you put something on my hair. It’s not that shiny.” 

“It _is_ this shiny!” She shot back. “I didn’t put serum into it or anything.” 

“It doesn’t usually look like that.” 

“Because you wash it with bar soap,” she retorted. “If I tried that crap on my hair, it would be a mess.” 

“Fine,” he said. “I’m setting up an expense account too. With your name on it. I don’t see any good reason I have to wear jeans this tight, and there has got to be a more comfortable bra.”

She laughed. “Good luck with that.” 

“You can’t possibly make me believe that all of these have damn wires in them.” 

“Not that provide support. But I have some sports bras. You can wear one of those.” 

“All these weird underwear requirements,” he muttered. 

She lowered her phone, and flushed. “I do have a question, actually. It’s delicate.” 

“All right.” 

“Sometimes when I’m sitting, my um...you know...It’s really hard to position. What do you do with it?” 

He laughed. The look on her face made him laugh harder. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed, seeing that her flush had deepened, and she looked angry and a little hurt. “I’m really sorry, Dany. It’s just...you really seemed pretty calm about this whole thing. Just so collected and...I’m not _happy_ you’re having a hard time. Just relieved it’s not just me.” 

“Of course I’m having a hard time! This whole thing is messy and frustrating.” 

Jon nodded. “Aye, It is. All right, let’s go over some ways to sit comfortably.” 

It wasn’t long before the cards arrived for them to use their expense accounts. They were planning to spend the day shopping, and decided to head out together, to veto purchases that they would never wear. 

Dany insisted he carry an enormous brown pocketbook with a cobalt blue stripe down the center. The thing was like a suitcase.

“Why?” 

“I never go out without a bag, Jon. Never. If we see people I know -“

“This damn bag is bigger than my knapsack.” 

“I’m aware of that. I like a roomy bag.” 

He rolled his eyes, but hoisted the ridiculous bag over his shoulder. 

They went downstairs, and Jon saw a man who looked so much like Daenerys he was about to ask her who it was, but she saw him too. 

“That’s Rhaegar,” she whispered. Rhaegar saw them, and rushed over, pulling Jon into a hug, kissing the top of his head. 

“Hi, Dany.” Then he looked into his face. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.” 

“Hi, Rhaegar,” he said, forcing a smile and kissing his cheek. “I’m all right. Tired. This is Jon Snow. He’s an architect, he’s doing my closet.” 

Rhaegar grinned at Dany. “As if her closet isn’t big enough, right?” 

“Aye, I told her the same thing, but it’s what she wants.” 

Rhaegar nodded. “I sent the blueprints over.” 

“Yes. I saw. Thank you,” Jon said. He knew that, because he’d pored over it. Even after establishing where the beams and wiring were located in her closet, he’d enjoyed looking over the skeleton of the old castle, the buildings around it, where there had been barbicans, holdfasts, towers. The structures were all still there, modernized and fitted with amenities. 

“We have a problem,” Rhaegar added. “You might have to put off the project. We have to shut down the hotel for a few days.” 

“Why?” 

“Something’s wrong with the wiring. There have been shorts. I hired a team, I’m going down to talk to them, and take a look at it, right now.” 

“We’ll come with you,” Dany said, probably before thinking about it. 

Jon nodded. “Yeah,” He said quickly. “We’ll come.” 

They followed Rhaegar down the hall, into the freight elevator. Jon knew Daenerys was concerned about the business, much as she wanted to build a name separate from it, and he tried to look interested. 

“We’re not having shorts in my rooms,” he offered. “And not in Jon’s room, either. Why would we shut down the entire hotel?” 

“In case there’s a fire,” Rhaegar said. 

They reached their destination, and Jon looked in fascination at the power grid. 

The electrician, a bullish looking man who Rhaegar had called “Mr. Umber”, was talking to Rhaegar, ignoring Jon and Daenerys, and Jon would have been content to let that be, but he was saying he would need to rewire the entire hotel, stating that it would take four months, that they’d have to shut down the hotel for that time, and then quoted an astronomical figure as his price. 

“Ok, no,” Jon interrupted. “You don’t need to rewire the entire hotel, and we do not need to shut down. It will not take four months. Three weeks, tops, and that’s with not working weekends.” 

The electrician sneered at him. “I know my job, little lady,” he said. “And I’m telling you -“

“Clearly not, _little man_ ,” he shot back. “This hotel was updated twelve years ago, and again six years ago. The shorts aren’t happening in every room, I’d bet not even half the rooms, and not in the main building at all.”

“Is that a fact?” 

“I’d say the wing that used to be Maegor’s Holdfast needs to be closed,” he thought for a minute, then rattled off the six rooms that he’d thought might be problematic when he’d studied the blueprints. “The rest of the hotel is fine. That area isn’t even connected to the main building. If you want to close down just to be on the safe side, that’s fine, but not necessary, and certainly not for four months,” he told Rhaegar. Then he turned back to the electrician. “Maegor’s Holdfast has aluminum wiring.” He pointed to the grid. “Some of it’s here, and it’s in those rooms. It’s up to code, but should be replaced with copper.”

“I don’t need this,” Umber snapped. “I don’t need to be told my job by some spoiled little girl-“ 

“That’s enough,” Rhaegar said. 

Umber stormed out without another word, his team following him.

Rhaegar turned to Jon. “You’re sure about this? Because, Dany, if we don’t shut down and there’s a fire-“ 

“There’s not going to be a fire. Not from this.” He turned to Daenerys. “Tell him.” 

“Um...Aye, she’s right,” Daenerys said, staring at him.

“He’s an architect and he studied engineering,” Jon told Rhaegar. “He does this all the time. Get the guests out of Maegor’s Holdfast immediately, and get an ethical contractor.” 

“Davos is on vacation, and his whole team with him,” Rhaegar said. 

“Davos?” 

“The electrician we usually work with. You’ve met him. It’s funny, he said we should put in copper wiring a few times.” 

“Why didn’t you?” Jon demanded, before he could stop himself. 

Rhaegar sighed. “He said it was up to code, and we never had problems. Should have listened.” 

“Aye, you should have.” 

Rhaegar grinned. “Aye?” 

“She’s hanging out with me too much,” Daenerys added with a chuckle.

“Well, thank you,” Rhaegar said, then turned to Dany. “And thank you, I imagine you and Dany must have been talking about this a lot. Do you prefer Jon, or Mr. Snow?” 

Dany glanced at Jon. “Jon,” He supplied. “He prefers Jon.”

“I’m sure the man can speak for himself, Dany,” Rhaegar said teasingly. “Anyway, you saved us a heap of money. I’ll call Davos, see if he’s willing to cut his vacation short, or at least recommend someone. I’m going to comp the guests in the old Holdfast and move them to the main building.” 

They were quiet until they stepped outside, when Dany turned to him. 

“Are you absolutely sure that there won’t be a fire?” 

“Not from your wiring in the main building. It’s all copper unless the specs that came with the blueprints are wrong.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate your jumping in. You saved us a lot of money. You called that guy little man,” she said, laughing. “That was my favorite part.”

“Aye, he was a dick.” 

“We’re better off waiting for Davos. I wish I’d known about the wiring. I’d have been haunting Rhaegar to fix it.” 

Jon nodded. He had no doubt she would have. 

Daenerys 

They had spent the entire afternoon and part of the evening shopping. She had to acknowledge that trying on clothes in his body, noting how everything fit him gorgeously, had been a little exciting. _Be respectful,_ she reminded herself, particularly when standing in front of the mirrors that were strategically placed so she could see his body from every angle. 

The man was beautiful. 

He was also thrifty, and she thought he would lose his mind when he saw the price tags on everything. 

“These jeans are almost two hundred dollars,” he informed her, as if she hadn’t noticed. 

“They’re quality,” she pointed out. 

“Quality? How are they higher quality than mine?” He demanded. 

“Aw, let the man have his jeans,” the saleswoman told him. 

“ _Aye,_ let me have my jeans,” Dany said, grinning at him. 

“This is insane,” he said, watching her as she laid several pairs onto the counter. “You’re really going to drop two hundred dollars on jeans. More, since you need seven pairs.”

“I’m not trying to interfere,” The saleswoman said to him, “But your jeans run for two fifty. And that bag is over a grand. Almost two grand in that size. He likes the jeans, it’s not hurting anyone.”

Jon stared at the saleswoman, then turned to Dany. “Is that true? This damn bag is over a grand?” 

“I like a roomy bag,” she said defensively. 

“I’m going outside. To throw up.”

He stormed out of the store. 

The saleswoman smiled at her. “You bought her the bag, I guess.”

“It was a gift,” she mumbled, handing her the card. 

“Well, she’s a lucky lady. I know I wouldn’t be complaining if I received a gift like that.” 

“She’s thrifty,” Dany said. 

“She’s very beautiful,” the woman said. “Looks a lot like Daenerys Targaryen.” 

Dany suppressed a giggle. “Aye, she does.”

“But if you don’t mind my saying, she doesn’t appreciate you.” Then she flushed. “I mean...I’m not...”

“It’s fine. It’ll be our secret,” Dany said, and winked at her. The poor girl turned redder. 

“Well, thank you, um...” she glanced at the card, handing it back to her. “Mr. Snow. I hope I see you again.” 

“Have a great holiday,” she responded, and walked outside to find Jon, who was standing by the curb, and seemed to be chewing on one of her pens. 

“Why are you eating my pen?” She asked, tilting her head curiously. 

“I need a goddamn cigarette,” he said, his voice a little snappish. 

“That saleswoman has a crush on you,” she said, with a teasing smile. 

“That saleswoman has a crush on _you,”_ he corrected. 

“Ok, grumpy, let’s go get some food.” They walked down the crowded street. Jon was muttering something about the dirty slush, and she giggled. 

“What is wrong with you? Are you really this angry over jeans and my bag?” 

He huffed a little, but didn’t answer. 

The streets were definitely slushy, she had to give him that. And she’d been North a few years before, for some work she’d been doing with the indigenous people who lived North of the famous Wall. She knew he was likely accustomed to vast fields and dense forests of pristine sparkling snow. And the Northerners decorated in a much more sedate manner. Candles in windows, an occasional house decked out in lights and even that was distinctly more understated than the comparatively garish city. 

She wondered if he was homesick. She’d rarely ever been homesick, but then she’d had her first passport before she had her first birthday, and had gotten a new one every five years until she turned sixteen, then a new one last year. Home for her was more a state of mind than a place. 

Eating honeyfingers in Pentos with Rhaegar and Viserys, listening to a drum circle in Tyrosh with a dozen strangers, the smell of incense and cinnamon as the sun set in Braavos, eating spiced meat at a night market in Volantis with Missandei, drinking a dry red wine with Arianne Martell at Sunspear in Dorne, listening to the waves crash and the salty, smoky air at Dragonstone...and yes, this, the pageantry and lights, crowds and slush of the city streets. These were all home to her. 

She was home everywhere and nowhere, so she rarely experienced homesickness.

She didn’t know what his experience had been, but he had said his mother’s maiden name was Stark; she imagined he’d spent most of his life up North. 

Bad enough to be away from home, but in another body, it must be hard. Not that it was easy for her, she thought in annoyance. 

She glanced at him as they approached a wide main street that was so brightly lit it could have been daytime. There were restaurants in various themes, offering cuisine from all corners of the world; or at least the Westerosi versions of the dishes. 

There were also vendors all up and down the sidewalk selling food, so that the smells of hot meat, spices, and sweet chestnuts mingled and reminded her of winter and shopping for gifts and excitement; but for him, it might be unsettling. 

“What do you want to eat?” She asked him. 

He shrugged. “I don’t care.” 

“Let’s grab something to take out,” she suggested. 

“Fine.” 

They got the food and went back to her rooms. They laid all their bags in the center of the sitting room, then changed into pajamas. 

“Should we watch a movie?” She asked as they both returned to the sitting room and started opening the bags of food. Steam and the delicious aromas of dinner filled the room and her stomach growled.

He shrugged. She was starting to get annoyed. If he was this angry over her bag or jeans, she thought he was being a little petty. 

She searched the movies she’d added to the queue. There were so many versions of Freaky Friday, she thought maybe it would be better to fill a Saturday and do a marathon. She settled on Prelude to a Kiss, and they watched in silence as they ate. 

They went to bed, but the next morning Jon’s mood had not improved. In fact, the arrival of a few magazines set him into what she thought was an unreasonable rage. 

He was a little mollified by her Architectural Digest, but his temper was right back up again with Elle and Vogue.

“You realize this is seventy percent ads, right? It’s all just advertising. Almost all of it. It’s just to make you waste money on stupid things you don’t need.” 

“Jon -“

“That redness cream you use? You know its active ingredient is hydrocortisone, right? Five bucks at the drugstore, but you’re spending fifty -“

“It has soothing probiotics,” she said patiently. 

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “It’s hydrocortisone.” 

“And hydrocortisone cream is thick. It makes foundation cakey. My cream is smooth -“

“Then skip the foundation! Problem solved!”

“The foundation makes my skin more glowy -“

“If you were any more glowy you’d be a goddamn will o’ the wisp,” he muttered.

“I’m going to go out,” she said, her patience frayed. 

“Sure, of course. Go shop some more.” 

She put on the new jeans she’d bought, one of Jon’s flannels, and the cashmere coat she’d been unable to resist, and stormed out. 

She was not going to be guilted. It wasn’t as if she didn’t donate to charity, she thought angrily. She debated buying a bag for that saleswoman, figuring it would brighten her day, but hesitated; she might misinterpret such a gesture.

She was angry now, because she wondered if she was being wasteful buying so much. 

She picked up some hair and nail products. Really, Jon’s cuticles were a disaster, had the man never gotten a manicure or pedicure in his life? She wasn’t going to paint them or anything, even though she knew Viserys liked to put an occasional clear coat on his nails, but it wouldn’t hurt to file and buff them. 

She bought some takeout at a restaurant that claimed to make Northern cuisine, hoping that might improve his mood a little. 

When Dany came in, Jon was sitting on the couch watching television. 

“I brought food,” she said, then looked closely at his face. It was streaked with tears that he wiped away hastily. “What’s wrong?” 

“That was so thoughtful, thank you.” His lower lip trembled. 

“Jon, what happened?” She sat down next to him on the couch. 

“Just...my cousin is a genius! Did you see his holiday ads? For the car? With the family and the puppy and then the kids get to keep the puppy?”

Dany nodded. It really was a great campaign, done over a few weeks, to tell a kind of story about a family who found a puppy in the rain; to show how the father was able to safely brake and neither pup nor family was harmed. Over the next few commercials, they took the pup home, drove around putting up “Lost Dog” signs. Took him to the vet to get shots and check for a chip. Finding the owner, driving to meet the owner. The owner seeing how his pup loved the new family, letting them keep him, and of course making sure to underscore how none of this holiday joy would have been possible without this very car. 

“Yeah, it’s a great ad,” she said, resisting the urge to snarkily point out that it was all just fluff to make people spend money. “So what, did you drink heavily and watch the entire set?”

“No I just...the one where they keep the dog came on...” and the tears were back, which he wiped away. “And I miss my dog. And I’m never going to have a family. And my life is just over.” 

Dany narrowed her eyes now. She took out her phone, glancing at the calendar. _Fuck._

She laid the phone on the table. 

“Your life isn’t over. But Jon...you’re about to have a really bad week.” 

“A bad week?” 

She started laying out the food, and plastic utensils, then went to her kitchenette, returning with a wine bottle tucked under her arm, two glasses gripped in her fingers, and a basket in her other hand, containing a pint of ice cream, a spoon, and a bag of assorted mini chocolate bars. 

“This is for you.” 

His eyes widened. “I’ve been wanting ice cream all day! How did you know?” 

She patted his arm, then opened the wine. 

“Drink some of this. You’re going to need it.” 

“Is something wrong? What’s wrong?” 

“Jon, have you been feeling kind of bloated?”

“If you’re about to give me shit about how I’m making your body fat, when we both know you look like a goddess -“

“Just answer me, please.”

He sighed, and nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening, I didn’t do anything different, and now-“

“It’s ok. It’s fine.” She stood and patted his shoulder, then went to her bathroom, returning with a package of pads, and a package of tampons, laying them on the table. 

He stared in abject terror. “No,” he said firmly. “No, I’m not doing that.” 

“Jon, we need to talk about this.” 

“No. Fuck. No. Can’t you put it off?” 

She suppressed a giggle. “No, Jon. And if we don’t talk about it, by tomorrow morning my bedroom will look like a crime scene.” 

“Fuck me,” he thundered. 

“Not this week,” she said dryly. 

He dropped his head into his hands. 

“It’s all right. It’s only a week. Mine usually lasts only four or five days. But it’s heavy.” 

“Gods,” he said, the word muffled by his hands. 

“Look, we can just wear pajamas all week, all right?” 

He nodded, but didn’t answer. 

“I know it sucks,” she said. “And I won’t lie, it sucks. When I got it the first time, it was summer. I was very upset.” 

He didn’t answer, so she set up the plates, and started eating. After a few minutes of sulking, he started eating as well. She figured they’d be home the rest of the day, so she decided to start the Freaky Friday marathon. 

Jon started in on the ice cream, and she smiled to herself. It wasn’t perfect, but it would help.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany get to know each other a bit more, and thus begins the mutual pining.

Jon 

He could not understand it. Something must be wrong, really wrong. Sansa and Arya would go to school or work or dates with this going on. How? How did they do anything? Showering had become simultaneously much more traumatic yet crucially necessary. Every day. That first day, he’d taken two. 

“I think you’re dying,” he told Dany. “This can’t be normal.” 

She had bit back a laugh and gave him Advil. She laid a heating pad on his belly, brought him ice cream.

“Do you go to work and school and just live your life like you aren’t bleeding to death?” He demanded. 

“Yes. And I can assure you, you are not bleeding to death.” 

“It seems to me you should get a week off when this is going on,” he said, making her laugh again. 

“I’m fairly certain employers would balk at twelve weeks vacation,” she said lightly. 

As promised, she let him wear pajamas all week and aside from insisting on slathering his hair with that conditioning cream and his face with moisturizer, she didn’t press the maintenance either. 

They watched more movies. The Change Up. Vice Versa. It’s a Boy Girl Thing. Your Name. 

By the fourth day, he was feeling much better, and they started working on her closet. He watched her in amusement as she laid everything in separate piles. 

Apparently she gave away almost half her clothes and bags to consignment shops for women entering the workforce, every three to six months. Just to go out and buy more, he thought in mild annoyance, that was turning into begrudging amusement. 

“You’d save a lot if you shopped at the consignment shops yourself,” he pointed out, and she turned to him with an expression of horror, as if he’d suggested boiling kittens for stew. 

“Jon, no. If I shopped at those shops when I don’t have to, then I’d be taking away an opportunity to buy these pieces from someone who might not otherwise have the chance.” 

“Nobody _needs_ a bag that’s two grand.” 

“Maybe not, but sometimes having just a few really high quality pieces to mix and match with your wardrobe, or a designer bag, can boost a person’s confidence. And confidence goes a long way.”

He couldn’t really argue with that. 

“Why are my nails shiny?” He demanded. 

“Oh! I filed and buffed them.” 

He rolled his eyes. She was using those creams on his face, too, though he appreciated that she had paid attention to his beard trimming demonstration, and learned it fairly quickly. But then she’d followed up, reading articles and, unsurprisingly, buying more products.

“Beard oil? Are you serious?” He had asked, watching her apply it to his beard and then comb the damn thing.

“It’s good for the beard itself, but the skin under it as well,” she explained. “I read an article in GQ -“

“Of course you did.” 

“- and it was really helpful. It gave me some pointers.” 

Jon couldn’t help but be amused. She’d bought more cologne, yet more skin products “because your skin is a little different from mine, it has different needs,” more shampoo, “your hair isn’t dry, because you don’t heat style it, and you don’t have any split ends, so you should be using different shampoo,” she’d explained. “My shampoo will weigh your hair down.” She’d bought some fancy brushes for the beard. 

He wasn’t even surprised. The girl had a tiny brush she used to _brush her eyebrows_ , for fuck sake, so of course she’d want brushes for a beard. 

Jon sat on her bed watching her making piles, and looked at his phone, grinning when he saw Arya’s name.

Arya: I am sorry. It all got away from me. Ghost is addicted to bacon.

He smirked. 

Jon: No control! 

Arya: True. If it helps, Nymeria’s been addicted for years and it hasn’t done any harm. 

He glanced at Daenerys. 

_My fingernails are shiny. My dog is addicted to bacon. I’m losing control of my life._

Arya: So how are you holding up?

Jon: Good, actually. Got a job. 

Arya: A JOB?!?! What about your company? Are you moving there?

Jon: It’s a contract job. I’m renovating a closet.

Arya: Is that a typo or did you say you’re renovating a CLOSET? 

Jon chuckled.

Jon: Aye, renovating a closet. It’s insane, Sansa would love it. It’s already bigger than the reception area at my office. She wants it bigger. 

Arya: Damn. 

Jon: Damn is right. 

Arya: Is she a pampered bitch?

Jon found himself smiling again. 

Jon: She’s a little pampered. But not a bitch. Not really. Her name’s Daenerys Targaryen. She’s a lawyer. 

Arya: DAENERYS TARGARYEN?!?!?!?! 

Jon: You know her?

Arya: I know who she is. I wrote a paper about her last year. 

Jon: A paper? Wtf.

Arya: We had to write some thing about pop culture. She’s an heiress so I figured she qualified. People paying her to go to parties and shit. 

Jon: People pay her to go to parties? 

Arya: She and Missandei Naath and a bunch of other people blew the lid off four human trafficking rings, got all the victims into safe homes. She also disassembled a bunch of sweat shops and made them introduce labor laws in three cities in Essos. She even did some stuff in the North. She’s won two humanitarian awards. What’s she doing now? 

_Making my hair and nails shiny._

Jon: Renovating her closet. And she’s a lawyer. Like I just said. 

Arya: HAHA. She’s been a lawyer. I mean in general. 

Jon: Nothing. She quit her job. 

Arya: How are you doing, though? I mean aside from work. Are you ok? 

_Just got over my fucking period, now that you asked._

Jon: Not too bad. Keeping busy so I don’t drown in sadness. :-) 

Arya: If you ever need to talk, give me a call. 

Jon: Thanks. How are you?

Arya: Good. Aside from overfeeding the dogs.

Jon: How’s Gendry? 

Arya: Shut up. I’ll ttyl. I love you. 

Jon: I love you too. 

Jon put the phone down. Dany was holding up a blue-green dress, studying it. 

“Do people pay you to go to parties?” 

She looked at him and laughed. “Not now. When I was a sweet young thing, yeah. Can you try this dress on?” 

“Why?” He asked suspiciously. 

“Because I need to know if it still fits me, so I can decide whether to give it away.” 

“If you haven’t worn it in so long you don’t know if it fits you, you should probably give it away. So people would literally give you money to attend their parties.” 

“It used to be one of my favorite dresses. It’s a summer dress, as you can see. And yes, when I was in college, I went to parties. Sometimes venues would give me money as an incentive.” 

“That’s fucking insane.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I donated the money to education funds. Now, please, Jon, try this dress on? Please?” 

Jon got up, muttering, and took the dress, removed the sweat pants and tee shirt he’d been lounging in, and slipped the dress on. 

He caught a glimpse in the full length mirrors, and turned away sharply. The dress fit, all right. Hugged her curves. Showed off her legs. Low enough to show the top of her breasts, the soft curves of them stirring a hunger in him that was best left alone. 

She walked over, then moved behind him, assessing. 

“This is awesome. I can see how it looks from the back.”

“Aye. Awesome,” he muttered, and she giggled. 

“Obviously the whole thing is less than awesome,” she conceded. “But it’s a silver lining.” She stood back, eyeing him critically. “I’m trying to figure out if it’s flattering.” 

He looked at her in disbelief, then looked again in the mirror, then back at her. “Are your eyes like funhouse mirrors when you look at yourself?” At her blank look, he exhaled in frustration. “Dany...you’re gorgeous. Everything you put on is going to be flattering. Because it’s on you.” He indicated the mirror. “What do you even see, when you look at yourself?” 

She smiled at him. “You are so sweet, Jon.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. 

“Can I take this dress off now?” 

She nodded. “Yes. Thank you.” 

She went back to separating her clothes and purses and shoes, and Jon stole one more glance in the mirror. 

_Flattering,_ he thought. Silvery hair cascading over her shoulders, and the soft aqua dress, she looked like a confection. 

He turned back to the shelving where no alluring siren image would distract him, and changed back into the lounging clothes. 

He stepped out of the closet, and sat back down on the bed. 

His phone buzzed again. 

Robb: Hey. I haven’t seen you since the party. Is everything ok? 

Jon: Yeah, I was a little under the weather.

Robb: I told you to stay! Or at least take a taxi.

Jon: I’m fine. I met Talisa’s friend Daenerys at your place. I’m renovating her closet. 

Robb: That’s great. Working always gets you in good spirits. 

Robb: Wait, did you say closet? What’s wrong with her closet?

Jon: She wants a bigger closet. 

Robb: Oh. Ok. What are you doing for dinner? I thought we could meet up. 

Jon glanced up at Dany, who was holding up a purse that looked like it was made of patchwork, studying it. “My cousin Robb just texted.” 

“Oh,” Dany said. “That’s good. How is he?”

“He’s ok. He wants to meet for dinner,” he warned her. 

“You can come, can’t you?” 

“Well...I don’t know if he’s bringing Talisa.” 

“Ok...” but she was clearly nervous. “What kind of things do you talk about?” 

“Our family...hm. Maybe I can get him to bring Talisa. I’ll explain...” he broke off, trying to devise an excuse. “We can pick up supplies. I’ll tell him we’ll be together anyway and you’d love to see Talisa.” 

“Perfect.” 

“What do you and Talisa talk about?” 

“Work, life, what music we’re listening to.”

Jon went back to texting.

Jon: Aye, that’d be great. Dany and I are picking up supplies. We can meet after. She’d love to see Talisa again.

Robb: Perfect. I’ll tell Talisa. We can meet around seven?

Jon: Sounds good.

Then he braced himself for an inevitable argument. 

“I don’t have to dress up, right?” He asked. 

She glanced at him in consternation. “You can’t go like that.”

“Ok. But I don’t have to...dress up. Right?” 

“No,” she said. “But we have to do something with your hair.” He groaned. “And makeup. But sure, you can do jeans and a messy bun.” 

“Thank you. What about you?” 

She seemed to be bracing herself now. “The jeans I bought are more comfortable than yours. And the shirts, too. Nothing fancy. Look.” 

She walked over to her dresser, opening one of the drawers, too many drawers in his opinion, that she’d dedicated to men’s clothes. At least the ones that could be folded and put into drawers; she’d inexplicably insisted he needed suits “in case something comes up,” and had measurements done so that said suits could be tailored to match his body. 

And of course two cashmere coats “one is an overcoat,” she said, at which he’d snapped “all coats are overcoats!” And a leather jacket “because this leather is soft and buttery and yours...isn’t.” 

She brought over a pair of jeans and a plain blue shirt. 

“How’s this?” 

He looked at them suspiciously. Then touched the shirt, and frowned. “What the hell is this?” 

“It’s a silk cotton blend. See how soft it is?” 

“Fine.”

The only thing he really liked was the new work boots she’d been set on buying. She had said they were more comfortable than his, and his own were “scuffed”, which he supposed might be true. The new ones were an excellent quality, and he thought he might actually reimburse her for them when they switched back, and keep them.

He found out very quickly that Dany’s idea of a “messy bun” actually took more work than he’d expected. She’d made a ponytail, tucked the bottom under the elastic—she’d told him to never under any circumstances to use a rubber band—then pulled some pieces out of the bun, artfully twirling them and spraying it with one of her dozens of sprays. “It’s for texturizing,” she’d explained though it still made no sense to him. She had secured the bun with pins, even though he was pretty sure the elastic would do the trick.

Then she did some “fast, easy” makeup that took ten damn minutes, told him to close his eyes and she sprayed his face. 

“What the fuck?” He demanded.

“We’ll be out for awhile, and you aren’t going to want to do a touch up, so I added setting spray.” 

“Setting spray,” he muttered.

“But please, Jon, make sure to keep applying lipstick. It’s what I do, and you’ll look pale otherwise. It’s bad enough you won’t wear mascara -“

“Fine,” He said. 

Then he watched her tousle his hair, and brush out his beard, using a tiny drop of that oil. She put on cream, then a different cream under the eyes. Then -

“Stop! Are you putting on lipstick?” 

“It’s lip _balm_ , Jon. There’s no color in it. It has SPF and prevents chapping. You have full lips. Chapping happens.” 

He sighed.

They had a much easier time when deciding on supplies for her closet. He hadn’t brought any tools with him, and she didn’t know what he needed or didn’t, so she offered no argument until he tried to buy them with his own money. 

“Why? You’re buying these to work on my closet! It seems I should be the one to pay for them.” 

“That’s ridiculous. I’m buying them. I’m keeping them, I’m bringing them home with me, I’ll use them in the future. It’s ludicrous for you to pay for them. The paint, shelving, furniture, glass, all that you can pay for because it’s going into your closet. The tools are mine.”

And then choosing the shelving, the wood, the color scheme, that was all hers, so he didn’t argue there. In fact, he had to admit, grudgingly and to himself, that she had pretty good taste. 

Sh had gotten outrageously excited by the lighting concepts he’d suggested, saying he was a genius, making him flush.

He texted Robb to see which restaurant he’d chosen, then Dany hailed a taxi. 

He really felt like they could have walked or taken a train, but carrying all the bags from the home center would be a hassle, even though Dany was carrying most of them. 

“I’m so strong,” she’d told him gleefully. 

When they entered the restaurant and found Robb, Talisa hadn’t arrived yet. 

Robb stood up and hugged Dany, then gave Jon a peck on the cheek. 

“You look fantastic,” Robb told Dany enthusiastically. “The city agrees with you.”

“Thanks,” Dany said. They sat down, and after a few awkward seconds, Robb started talking about work, and asking questions about the closet project.

Jon listened to Daenerys; she’d perfected his accent, and must have paid close attention to his explanations and comments he’d made to her, because she was telling Robb how they would have to extend the closet sideways, which would make the kitchen a little smaller, rather than backward, which would make the bathroom smaller. How this was less than ideal because the kitchen was already smaller than the bathroom. 

Robb laughed. “Your bathroom is smaller than your kitchen?” He asked Jon. 

Jon laughed lightly. “It is. And I do cook sometimes,” he added, trying to get the exact way she’d said it to him, in playful protest. 

“But she primps a lot more,” Dany added, which was what Jon had said in response. 

That had gotten a laugh from Robb. Jon knew Dany was nervous, because she’d asked him the names of Robb’s siblings twice, and had seemed like she might bolt in panic at any moment before they arrived. But it didn’t show now at all. He wondered if this was some secret lawyer magic, usually called into action on the courtroom to project a veneer of confidence, now used to pretend to be a man who in truth was little more than a stranger to her. 

Talisa arrived after the drinks and bread, and she hugged Jon, looking into his face. 

“Dany, are you all right?” 

“I am,” he said. Catching Dany’s glance, he sighed. “I’ll be right back. I have to use the ladies’ room.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Talisa said.

He walked with her to the rest rooms, and after using the facilities, washed his hands and searched the ridiculously oversized bag for her lipstick. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Talisa asked, and there was genuine concern in her voice. 

“Do I...not look all right?” He asked cautiously. 

“Well...I know you’ve been really down over work. And I get that. You just seem...a little pale. And your nails are all chipped. I usually wouldn’t even notice something like that, but it’s _you._ I haven’t seen you looking like this since Essos, and you lived in a tent at that time.” 

“Well...I’ve been down about my job, like you said...and I...I’m just getting over my period, so -“ 

“ _Oh,”_ Talisa said. “That sucks. Probably worse with just leaving your job. You know I’m here for you. Missandei said you’ve barely talked to her, just texting. We’ve been really worried. But yeah, I guess between leaving your job, fixing your closet and the damn red tide, I can see it. So...what’s going on with you and Jon?” 

Jon turned to her sharply. “Nothing. He’s fixing my closet. He’s just coming out of a bad breakup.” 

Talisa nodded. “I know, I really feel bad for him. It sucks when you want different things and it ends the relationship. But it’s been a few months. Maybe you could...” she smiled wickedly, “cheer each other up. He’s gorgeous, and he’s a really decent person.” 

Jon frowned. “He’s all right.” 

“All right? Dany, have you seen that ass?” 

“Talisa! You’re married!” 

“And I love Robb with my whole heart. But I’m not blind, we’re both allowed to _look._ Jon’s beautiful. And he’s looking really good! At the party, he seemed really forlorn and scruffy. But _now_ he looks like he’s been well rested and a little glowy.” 

_It’s that damn eye cream,_ Jon thought. “I’m not looking at him like that,” Jon said firmly. He wanted to add that he wasn’t looking at her like that either, but he’d definitely been stealing a few glances. He couldn’t say that his own damn reflection hadn’t caused some uncomfortable stirring.

“I understand. I’m not pressuring you, Dany. I just want you to be happy. That’s all. I don’t think you’ve been with anyone since Daario.” 

“Daario?” Jon echoed. 

“Wasn’t that his name? That guy you were seeing in Essos?” 

Jon felt an inexplicable knot of jealousy, which annoyed him. “That was years ago,” he said carefully. 

“I know. That’s my point. Listen, I know that you’ve been really focused on work, and I admire that, I really do. Before I met Robb, I was pretty sure that finding love was nowhere near the most important thing in the world. So please don’t think I’m judging your choices. But you and he have a lot in common.” 

“We don’t, actually.” 

“Yes, you do. You both care about people. Did you know that he does a lot of pro-bono work at Hardhome? Wiring and stuff. And he has a hotline attached to his company line, where he will do repairs at no cost if the people can’t afford it. Robb told me. I’ll text the information to you.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” he said quickly, embarrassed at the idea of Dany getting her phone blown up with Talisa glorifying him. He wanted to add that it wasn’t a big deal, but he had a feeling Dany would definitely consider this a big deal. 

“I’m not trying to pressure you,” Talisa repeated. “And I certainly don’t want to set you up to get your heart broken. I know Jon isn’t over his ex, and maybe he’ll never be. That kind of thing cuts deep. I guess my being so happy with Robb, it’s making me kind of sappy. And I can’t think of anyone who deserves to be happy more than the two of you. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok,” Jon said softly. He didn’t like that he was wondering who the fuck Daario was now. 

Why should be be jealous? It made no sense. Sure, Dany was distractingly beautiful and really sweet. And smart, too, and apparently a humanitarian. But he barely knew her. He still loved Ygritte. He frowned. He hadn’t really thought that much about Ygritte in the last few days. 

_Because I was fucking menstruating and dealing with a bizarre life altering change,_ he thought. _Not because of Dany._

Daenerys 

Dany listened to Robb talking about his ad campaign, telling him that his series with the puppy was one of the best she’d ever seen.

“Yeah? You don’t think it was a little schmaltzy?” 

“It’s the holidays. A little schmaltz is welcome. But it was really good.” 

“Thanks,” Robb said, grinning. “So...you and Dany...”

Dany’s eyes widened. “There is no ‘me and Dany.’ I’m renovating her closet.” 

“I don’t know, man. You look really good.”

“Aye, because she essentially bullies me into putting all these face creams on and using fucking beard oil.” 

Robb laughed. “Beard oil is good for your skin. That’s not a bad thing, I use it too. Let’s take stock, shall we? She’s gorgeous, she’s smart, she’s kind. Talisa loves her. And Talisa is an excellent judge of character.” He grinned, and Dany laughed. 

“I’m still in love with Ygritte,” Dany said, and ignored the pang in her chest at the words.

“I know. And I understand. If Talisa had broken things off with me, I’d be a disaster. You were with Ygritte for three years. I get it. It’s rough. But it wouldn’t hurt to just consider it.”

Dany sighed. She knew Jon had no interest in her whatsoever. He was being as patient as he could with her regimen, and had some really good ideas for her closet. He’d suggested some lighting concepts that she’d have never even thought about, and was being really helpful. But he wasn’t interested in her romantically, and she was surprised to find she was a little bummed about it. 

She studied the pattern on the tablecloth, annoyed at herself for being sad about it. She knew he was still dealing with heartbreak over his breakup. 

“I’m sorry,” Robb said. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. Forget I said it.” 

“It’s fine,” Dany said. 

Dany and Talisa returned to the table, and they were talking about a new sit com that had come out, Talisa told them about a story of a conference she’d attended. Robb was talking about finishing his holiday shopping. 

After the dinner, Jon and Dany decided to walk back to the Red Keep. 

“What happened?” Jon asked. 

“What do you mean? Nothing. Nothing happened,” Dany said quickly. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure.” 

“Who’s Daario?” 

She looked at him, surprised. “Daario? He’s a guy I dated in Essos. Years ago. Why?” 

He shrugged. “Talisa mentioned him.” 

“For fuck sake, what were you talking about that Daario came up?” 

He looked uncomfortable. “She was saying you hadn’t dated anyone since Daario. Did you love him?” 

“I...cared about him. I was young. It was a confusing time. He had a really different approach to things than I do. I thought I was a pretty aggressive person before I met him,” she said with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t say I loved him. I maybe thought I did.” 

“Did he love you?” 

“I don’t think so. Maybe. I think he loved this image he had of me. I pretended to be a lot tougher than I was, because I had to be. I couldn’t show weakness in the situation.”

“What was the situation?” 

“We were fighting these terrible people. They were running a human trafficking ring. They made a lot of death threats. At me, at my team.” 

“Death threats?” 

She nodded. “They were dangerous people. I knew that. And I knew if I showed them I was scared, we’d never win. I knew if I showed my team I was scared, it could make them feel less confident. We needed to be confident, and strong, and firm of purpose. We could not show any weakness.” 

“You were living in a tent, getting death threats, and you weren’t scared?” 

She laughed. “Of course I was scared! I was terrified. The threats they made were horrific. When I was alone I would cry. But the only person I ever let see it was Missandei. She was scared too. The only thing we were more afraid of than being brutally murdered, was going back to our lives and pretending we didn’t know what was happening. Letting it keep happening.” 

“When did you meet Talisa?” 

“After we managed to expose the traffickers, so they could be brought to justice, we had to try to find all their victims. Mostly women and children. To get them to safe places. Talisa and her team came in to provide healthcare and therapy to the victims.” 

“So you went from being an heiress getting paid to show up at parties, to living in a tent getting death threats.” 

She laughed. “Well I didn’t jump right from one to the other. But yeah. That’s probably a part of it. I grew up with every privilege. It was just grotesquely unfair. I felt like I owed the world something.” 

“And then you jumped into fighting sweat shops.” 

“You and Talisa really were gone a short time, to have explored my life story,” she said lightly. 

“Arya told me.” 

“Arya? Your cousin?” 

“She wrote a paper about you.” 

“She...What?” 

Now he laughed. “She had to write something about pop culture. She wrote about you. Getting paid to go to parties, then destroying trafficking rings and sweat shops and getting humanitarian awards.”

She flushed a little. “Only to quit my job in a fit of temper and lounge around expanding my closet.” 

“Listen, this is a hard time. We’ll figure something out. And then I have no doubt you’ll go right back to kicking ass. You’re an amazing person, Dany.” 

She could feel the flush deepening. “So...how did Daario come up?” 

Now he flushed. “She was just...she was trying to...I don’t know. Set us up.” 

“Set us up? You and me?” 

“Aye. She was saying that...” he broke off, and she could see he was embarrassed. 

“She said you have a gorgeous ass, didn’t she?” 

“Fuck me.” 

“I mean, you do. A gorgeous everything, really. The first thing I noticed was your ass, but you had your back to me. On the roof. And holy hell, it’s perfect.” 

“Come on,” he said, chuckling. 

She laughed. “All right. Dropping this.” 

They got back to the hotel, changed into pajamas, and decided to have some wine and watch another movie. This one wasn’t quite body switching. It was about a girl who wished she was older, then woke up thirty years old. It was a romantic comedy, and Dany worried it might have upset him, because he was still heartbroken over Ygritte. She felt another pang of jealousy, and pushed it aside. She could not allow herself to start getting feelings for Jon. 

_He’s in love with someone else and that’s that._

But she found herself wondering what it would be like to be held by him. Kissed by him. _Loved by him._


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets a phone call from Ygritte. Jon and Dany have an uncomfortable conversation.

Jon 

Dany had bought the strong dark roast coffee Jon liked, and he stood in her kitchen drinking deeply. 

Dany was leaning against the counter, drinking her own coffee and reading her texts. She looked up at him, and smiled suddenly. 

“You have a hotline where people can call you, and you’ll do their repairs at no cost?”

He sighed. Dammit. “Aye.” 

“That’s amazing!” 

“It’s not amazing. It’s very basic. People shouldn’t have to live with broken windows or faulty wiring, or holes in their roof, because they can’t afford repairs.”

“Talisa said you have an entire fund set up so if you can’t get to a certain client, you pay for the work to be done by a contractor in their area. That you’ve supplied electricity for over a thousand families.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Jon said, but as he had suspected, Dany was beaming at him admiringly. 

“This is a huge deal! Jon, you are helping families have better and safer lives. How can you say it’s not a big deal?” 

Jon shrugged. “I don’t think these things should be a luxury.” 

He wanted to get away from the topic. This wasn’t safe. After the conversation the night before, he had to acknowledge that he was attracted to her. That he admired her and enjoyed her company. And he wanted his own body back, and he knew that once he had it, and finished her closet, he would go back North. And he would miss her. Her giving him glowing looks was not going to help. 

Bad enough to nurse one heartbreak. He didn’t need another. 

“We should get started,” He said. 

“One more cup,” Dany responded, pouring more coffee. “I don’t know why, I get this tense kind of craving in the morning. It’s getting better, but...what do you usually do in the morning?” 

He chuckled. “I have a cigarette with my coffee.” 

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not doing that.” 

“Aye. Pretty effective way to quit smoking. Just switch bodies with a non-smoker.” 

“Everyone should try it,” she said, and they both laughed. 

The next few days were spent on the closet. He went over some basic electrical principles, which Dany eagerly devoured. 

They would take a break, eat lunch, and answer their texts. It was a pretty smooth routine, and he was feeling good. Better than he had in months. 

Then, one evening, in the middle of a minor, playful debate over baseball teams - he was defending his home team, and she was insisting her home team was the best - and in truth he wasn’t all that invested in which team was better, he just enjoyed the verbal sparring, his cell phone rang. 

He hadn’t answered a call since the switch unless he had to, responding via text. 

But he’d not expected this call. It was Ygritte. 

_Ygritte was calling him!_

He stared at the phone, terrified and elated.

“Do you want me to answer that?” Dany asked.

“Aye. No. No, don’t. Wait, pick it up and...” The ringing stopped. “Fuck me.” 

Then started ringing again. Dany was looking at him expectantly. 

“Ok, answer it. But be cold. Not cold. Casual. Be casual, but be nice.” 

Dany picked up the phone, putting it on speaker so he could hear the conversation. 

“Hey, Ygritte,” Dany said, looking at Jon for guidance. 

“Jon,” Ygritte’s voice sounded hoarse. Did she miss him? Did she regret their breakup? He leaned forward, waiting. “Jon, something terrible has happened! I just...I needed to talk to someone. Do you mind?” 

“I don’t mind,” Dany said. “Are you all right?” 

“They’re making us move. All of us at Hardhome. They’re making us leave so they can build a fucking ski lodge.”

“Who?” Dany demanded, and Jon could see she was immediately angry. Angry as he was. 

“Some corporation. Bolton Inc, I think it’s called.” 

“They can’t do that,” Dany said firmly. 

Jon frowned. _Are you sure?_ He mouthed, and she nodded.

“Well, they’re doing it, Jon! They’ve already got bulldozers here and they said we have thirty days to vacate.” 

“Ok, take a deep breath and listen to me. Are you listening?” 

“I called you so you would listen to me! They’re going to destroy everything we built here! We’ll have to start from scratch.” 

“No, you won’t. The first thing you need to do is file an injunction -“

“What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t have time to file a fucking injunction. I have to pack my shit and find a place to stay.” 

“No. You don’t. I’m telling you, they can’t do this. Hardhome is covered by the Northern Land Act, it was passed three years ago. It’s in Article Six, Section Twenty-Two. Bolton can’t touch it. No one whose birth, property and principal place of abode is south of the Wall can move a single brick without express written and notarized permission from your chosen councils. And if your council signed this without the knowledge or consent of the people living there, they’ll be in big legal trouble as well.” 

There was silence at the other end of the phone, then a sniffle. “Are you sure?” Ygritte’s voice sounded tentatively hopeful. Jon hoped Dany wasn’t blowing sunshine up her ass. 

“Aye, I’m sure. But you have to file an injunction. Immediately.”

“How do I do that?”

Dany started explaining the procedure to her, and Jon could hear Ygritte’s voice getting more hopeful as they spoke. 

After Dany hung up, she went to the kitchen, returning with two bottles of beer, and handed him one. 

“Dany...are you absolutely certain about this?” 

She nodded, drinking her beer. “I wrote part of it. I know what’s in it.”

“I remember a few years ago, a lot of us were protesting. The people North of the Wall wanted sovereignty. They were fed up with people south of the Wall taking their land, using their resources, destroying their forests, and they never got any benefit from it. A lot of us joined the protest. That’s how we met, Ygritte and I. We were protesting together. I felt so alive when I was with her. She’s really fierce. She cares so much about her land and her people.” He shook his head, and took another swig of beer. “When we finally won, we celebrated by...well...” he flushed. 

“I can imagine.”

“And they put in laws. So that the forests couldn’t be bulldozed and...” he broke off. “I’d guess you know that part.” 

She nodded. “An attorney I worked with at the time had told me about the protests. Willas Tyrell.” 

“He’s a Congressman now.”

“Indeed he is. A very good one, I might add. He and I and a few others came North to kind of...exert pressure.” She smiled faintly. “We spent months trying to get the Act passed, and once it was, he ran for Congress.” 

“And then what did you do?” 

“Well, he offered me a job. And it sounded good, but politics...” she broke off.

“You don’t like politics?” 

“I like them. I just...I didn’t feel like I’d earned my stripes yet. Not for that.” 

Jon chuckled. “You have a pretty stringent standard for what constitutes earning stripes.” 

“I do,” she said earnestly. “Do you want to...go there?”

“Go where?”

“North. They’ll have to appear at court. You can represent them.” 

“I don’t know crap about representing anyone.” 

“Sure, you do. You know more about their situation than I do. All I did was help Willas Tyrell and his team lean on people, and talk to the media about it. Made a lot of posts on my social profiles, to generate attention. You were there with the people. Protesting. That’s an enormous factor. Protest can be very powerful. But if I’m being honest, it’s better if it’s you. I mean...me, technically.” 

“Why? I’m not an attorney.” 

“No, but you were involved in the protests. If it’s me, it will look a little problematic.” 

“How? You wrote part of these laws.” 

“Right. I can be involved, and advise. But Bolton Inc. builds resorts. They cut a lot of corners and are not very good employers, but that’s another matter. My brother also builds resorts. We don’t move people off their land and we treat our employees very well. Nonetheless...” 

“I see. It will look like you’re making trouble for a competitor.”

“Right. And even as an official advisor...” 

“What?” 

“Jon, I’m sorry to say, you cannot show up there in jeans and Uggs with a messy bun.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s unprofessional, that’s why not.”

“But if you’re there in an unofficial capacity -“

“No. Jon, this will get public attention. It’s the first time these laws are being challenged. If they don’t hold up, it could spell disaster, not only for all the work you and the people there did, the work my team and I did, but for their future. We cannot let this happen. I’m going to text Willas and his team -“

“You just call Congressman Tyrell by his first name. Of course you do.” 

“I worked with him for over a year. We’re friends. I’m friends with a few congress members, and senators too, and you can bet your Golden Ratio ass I’m going to text them.”

“My...what?” 

“Come on, you’re an engineer. You know what the Golden Ratio is.” 

“Aye, but -“ 

He stopped, flushing, as Daenerys made a curving motion with her hand, then giggled and picked up her phone to start texting her friends...friends who were in congress and the senate.

“The protests were about the forests. And the waterways,” Jon said. “I’m not sure if it applies to towns and commercial areas, and Hardhome is one of them.” 

Dany glanced up from her phone. “It applies. I know the forests were what the protests were about.” She put down her phone and ran a hand through her hair, and she looked decidedly uncomfortable. “My brother Viserys...doesn’t think too much of the people North of the Wall.”

“Your brother Viserys sounds like a dick.” 

She laughed. “Yeah, he is. So...when the protests started, he was angry. He wanted to build a ski lodge there as well. Not at Hardhome, but nearby. He’d have to destroy a forest and part of one of the mountains to do it. There weren’t any laws about it yet. I convinced Rhaegar not to do it. But the commercial and communal areas, they weren’t part of the protest. And I was thinking...they don’t really do private property or ownership. They built Hardhome, and they aren’t... _sleazy_ enough to think about it. They thought if they could protect their natural landscapes, that would be that. But with no official ownership, and no forestry, it seemed like it would be too easy for someone to move in on the commercial or communal spaces. Because they weren’t natural landscapes but nor were they technically owned.” 

“So you wrote in articles to protect them.” 

“Alas, I _am_ sleazy enough to think of it.” 

Jon was quiet. He drank his beer. He was a little overwhelmed because he hadn’t thought of it either. 

“If you were sleazy, you’d have intentionally left it out,” he finally said. 

Daenerys laughed. “Well I’m not _that_ sleazy. Just sleazy enough.” 

Just sleazy enough. And Jon himself was just sleazy enough to like the sound of that. 

Daenerys 

It would make sense, Daenerys figured, since the North was so cold, that she - or rather, Jon - could wear flats. Boots with solid rubber soles would look professional enough. And she had a few very professional pants suits. But the hair. The makeup. Jon was being unusually patient with her as she explained the regime, and she was starting to feel a tad suspicious.

“No objections?” 

“Dany...you’re planning to go North with me, and help me save the town where my friends live. It’s their home. I’m not going to complain because you want to look professional. They can’t pay you.” His eyes flickered then. “I can pay you! I’ll pay you!” 

“Jon, stop. It’s as I said, I wrote part of these laws. I care about this.” 

“I’m not taking any payment for the closet, then.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re not gaining anything out of building me a closet. I am gaining something by fighting this case.” 

“What? What are you gaining?” 

“The articles I wrote will stand.”

“And? That’s not a personal gain.” 

“It is, Jon. It’s something I worked really hard on, to avoid this exact situation.” 

Her phone had been buzzing all day since she’d sent out the messages. 

She was confident that those she’d reached out to, would help. She’d packed clothes for Jon and herself, as well as makeup, and her hair supplies. 

She had a good travel regime for making certain to look good after a long trip, and the routine was just as easy in Jon’s body. There was the down side, of not being able to apply concealer, mascara, lip gloss and some highlighter to perk her face up, but there was the upside of the beard covering a good part of his face and less hair maintenance. Especially when he told her that he used to wear it in a ponytail. That made it much easier to present neatly, though she had to admit she liked his hair better down. 

Out of respect for him, she tried when she showered not to look too closely into the mirrors that covered much of her bathroom walls, but she would catch a glimpse. 

Things like periods and heels and elaborate maintenance - though she herself enjoyed the maintenance - were absolutely cons to having her own body. But she had enjoyed it. She missed it. But an extremely uncomfortable con with a man’s body, was the inevitable, _noticeable_ reaction this body had to arousal. 

And that arousal had been enough when she barely knew him, and he was just a gorgeous, cranky, overly private stranger inhabiting her body. Now he was a friend. A friend who admired her work instead of being intimidated or condescending; a friend who had protested for the very thing she herself had fought for and written laws for. A friend who did work for people’s houses at no cost, and had set up a fund for them to get the work done if he himself couldn’t. 

Now, knowing that aside from his being the most beautiful man she’d seen in awhile, maybe ever, he was _good,_ and fun and compassionate, she wanted even more to respect his body as she inhabited it; and her physical reactions to those flashes in the mirrors of that body were more pronounced. 

She dressed quickly, and then wrapped herself in a blanket and stalked into the living room, where Jon had laid out drawings and handmade blueprints for her closet, and was studying them. He glanced up when she entered, raising one eyebrow as he noticed the blanket. 

“Are you cold? I could turn the heat up.”

“No,” she said sullenly, and she could feel the flush on her cheeks. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I have another question. A delicate question.” 

“Go on.” 

“When you get...um...” she swallowed. “When you get aroused...what do you do?” 

“Aroused?”

“Like...sexually.” She was blushing furiously now.

“Are you asking me how to masturbate?” 

“Balls! Of course not! It’s your body. I’m not going to...Are you laughing?” 

“Aye, a little. What are you asking?”

“How do you hide it? There is an extremely _obvious_ thing that happens.” 

She could see he was trying not to laugh again. “Aye, that can be uncomfortable.” 

“What do you do?”

“Think about things that are repulsive. The most repulsive thing you can think of.” 

“That helps.”

“A lot, actually. Listen, I won’t be offended if you decide to...rub one off.” 

“That would be really invasive.” 

“This whole situation is invasive.” 

“Do you? Have you?” She demanded. 

“No, of course not! But I’m not going to get blue balls -“

“I’ll have you know women get the same thing,” she shot back. “It’s not balls exactly, but it’s not as if we don’t _have_ sexual organs and we get just as frustrated.” 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that much.” 

They both sat in silence for a few minutes. 

“What set you off?” Jon asked suddenly. 

Dany flushed again. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Was it us talking about Daario the other night?” 

“No.” 

“Was it that movie we watched with the -“

“No.” 

“Was it -“ 

“It was you, all right? You. I try not to look. Out of respect. But you know...you’re fucking hot, all right? And now I know you, and aside from being hot, you’re also really cool. And I keep getting these looks at you, my damn bathroom is lined with fucking mirrors.” 

“I noticed. That’s why I don’t shower in there.” 

She looked at him, surprised. “It is?” 

“Aye. You’re easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And you’re amazing. I feel like it would be disrespectful to just spend the day staring at you and touching your body that way.” 

“This has got to be the weirdest fucking relationship ever.” 

“Do you feel...better?” He asked, nodding toward the blanket she’d wrapped herself in.

“Better? If you’re asking if this damn woody is gone, no. We’re sitting here talking about mutual sexual attraction and touching ourselves and glimpses of nakedness in the damn mirrors, what the fuck makes you think that would help?” She demanded crossly. 

“Fair point. Ok, think about...that fucker who took your promotion. Joffrey Baratheon.” 

“Ew.” 

“Think about him naked.” 

“I just threw up a little in my mouth.” 

“Now think about his father.” 

“What the actual fuck, Jon?” 

“Think about his father naked but with one of those little reindeer doorknob things you have on all your doors, just hanging on his engorged-“

“Enough! Balls!” 

“Did It help?” 

She smiled suddenly. “Yeah, actually.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“That’s what you do? When you get hard?”

He laughed. “Well...not always. But in an inappropriate situation, aye, that’s what I do.” He stood. “I’ll pour us some coffee. And you have my permission to jerk off. I wouldn’t wish blue balls on my worst enemy.” 

“You have my permission too. If it comes to it.” 

“Thank you. Now let’s change the subject before we’re right back to where we started and we’re forced to go back to imagining a Baratheon family orgy to calm our asses down.” 

“Best to leave Cersei out of that. She’s hot as fuck.” 

Jon gave an exaggerated gasp of mock dismay. “Why Daenerys Targaryen, what a filthy mind you have!” 

She shrugged. “It’s a girl crush.” 

“Aye, I’m getting the coffee. That’s a dangerous road you’re on.”


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany start the trip North

Jon 

Jon watched the city fade away out the train window. Dany was telling him that travel was dehydrating, and she wanted to look professional and healthy, so she would appreciate it if he would drink a lot of water on this trip. She expected there to be pictures taken, and she also believed that some of her former colleagues and even her former boss could show up. 

Mace Tyrell was Willas Tyrell’s father, she’d explained, and would likely be there to support his son. Tyrion Lannister had texted her that he would be there as well. Dany had watched Cersei Lannister’s show, and the woman had given Roose Bolton and his son a verbal lashing so fierce Jon thought they were likely crying. 

“I wouldn’t have thought she cared all that much about this,” Jon noted 

“Maybe not,” Daenerys said. “But she’s a legal commentator and the Boltons are breaking the law. Her son’s partner is Mace Tyrell, and Mace Tyrell’s son was one of the spearheads on this. Add to that, Tywin Lannister is her father. He was forbidden to mine for silver North of the Wall because of these laws. No way they’ll let anyone else get away with breaking them.” 

Because of the fact that so many of the people she’d worked with would be there, and news sites would have sent photographers, she was insistent that she had to look good. 

Jon thought it was odd. Aside from the fact that she could shave her head and wear burlap and she would still look so blindingly beautiful that it would start a trend. He remembered how last year his cousin Sansa was going to a party and her ex would be there, so she had to look her best. Jon had asked if she wanted to get back with him, and she had said no, but she still wanted to look good enough to make him regret being “a jackass” when they’d been together. 

Jon supposed It was the same kind of thing. Dany had been the one to quit, but she didn’t want to look like she was sad and pining over it. She wanted to appear as if she were thriving. 

He appreciated what she was doing. She had planned to buy a tree this week, and finish her holiday decorating. She had hoped to get her shopping done for her brothers and friends. She had wanted to watch the tree lighting, that would happen tomorrow night. Instead she was traveling across the continent to fight it out in court so that Hardhome would be protected. She had immediately dropped her own plans without any complaint. Jon wasn’t sure if it was because she was so invested in the outcome, since she’d written part of the Act, or if it was because her two brothers were both so much older than her - in his family there would have been at least some ribbing - or if maybe she was secretly an angel. But she was being utterly kind and sympathetic about it. 

So if she was set on him drinking a gallon of water a day, and sloshing moisturizer on his face, because she wanted to look presentable, that’s what he would do. The fact that her definition of “presentable” was apparently set by a bar so high Jon suspected only movie stars and supermodels even tried to pass it, was another matter. The woman rolled out of bed looking like Aphrodite, and yet even with makeup, two people, Rhaegar and Talisa, had already asked Jon if he was all right, and said he looked pale. 

He looked at her: at his own body, with her in it. Robb, by contrast, had told him..well, her...that he looked good, and now that he was assessing, she had certainly made his hair look like a shampoo commercial, and his beard was neater than he’d ever kept it. She was wearing a lightweight cashmere sweater in navy blue, and those ridiculously expensive jeans. She was also wearing the work boots she’d bought, and he knew that under them she wore cashmere socks. It was his opinion that cashmere socks and gloves were among the stupidest inventions in all history, but he had to admit they were comfortable, which he only knew because he was wearing hers. She’d been sloshing his face with creams and serums, in addition to making him apply them to hers, and as a result looked much healthier than he had. Of course, his being miserably depressed over Ygritte had not made him look any better. 

She had a tablet, a laptop, and a few books, as well as papers, all around her, and she was buried in them. She had advised him to learn and pretty much memorize the entire Northern Land Act, “because if you make me look stupid, so help me...” but she’d said it playfully enough. 

She would do much of the actual “lawyering” as he’d dubbed it, because she didn’t want to have what she called a “bad faith” situation. That it would not look good for her to be working officially on this case because of Bolton being her competitor. 

“But they won’t know it’s me,” she had said, “because I’m in your body...which is technically also bad faith, as it’s deceptive. But it’s not as if there’s anything we can do about the situation.” 

As if sensing his eyes on her, she glanced up. “Are you all right?” 

“Aye. Just...nervous. I haven’t seen Ygritte since we broke up.” 

“Do you want to get back together with her?”

He wondered if she was jealous. If maybe she wanted him as much as he wanted her. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Then, a little too casually, “why do you ask?” 

“So I know how to act around her,” she said.

Of course, he thought. Stupid to think she’d be jealous. She could have anyone. 

“Right,” he said, hoping she couldn’t see his disappointment. 

“Jon...I don’t want to pressure you...but do you think this might be a good time to tell me why you broke up?” 

Jon nodded, taking a deep breath. “Aye. It’s time I told you. Ygritte and I were together for three years. She’s a free spirit. She hates anything that she perceives as tying her down. She’s not a big fan of contracts or ownership. I wanted to get married. I’ve always wanted it. I bought some land awhile back, and I designed a house, then made up a blueprint of it. I’d like to build it one day. I imagined it in every detail. How it would be to live in it. Something that was ours and only ours. And when I started falling in love with her, I imagined that life with her. It wasn’t fair. I see that now. I shouldn’t have been imagining a life she didn’t want. Not if I wanted that life with her. She was honest. But I was honest too. I told her the things I wanted. I think we both expected the other to change.” 

“You told her you wanted to get married and she said she didn’t, so you broke up?” Dany asked. Her voice was sympathetic. There was no censure or mockery there. 

“Worse. I proposed to her. I bought a ring. Planned out the entire thing. Made her dinner and took her out for a picnic on the land. It was still warm then, this was months ago. So I brought wine and food and a soft blanket. Showed her the blueprints for the house. Then I got down on one knee and proposed. She was very upset. She felt that my proposing to her, knowing her feelings about it, was disrespectful to her.”

“I’m so sorry, Jon.” 

“She doesn’t want kids. She likes kids, but she doesn’t want her own. She knew I did. I asked her if that was disrespectful to me, knowing what I wanted. She said she never tried to stop me from doing what I wanted. That she would miss me, but she would understand. I was so hurt and so angry. She would have just been all right with my leaving her one day to pursue the life I wanted with someone else. I felt like I didn’t mean anything to her.” 

“I can understand that.” 

“Aye, but I imagine you can understand her side, too.” 

Dany nodded. “I do.”

“What about you? Do you ever see yourself getting married or having kids?”

“I’d like to. But I’m not that easy to get along with. I’m bossy -“

“Aye, I noticed that.”

She threw a pillow at him. “And...I don’t want to get married for the sake of getting married. If I were to fall in love with someone, then yes, I could see getting married. But if not, I could deal with that, too.”

“What about children?” 

“If I haven’t found someone when the time comes I’m ready, I would adopt a child. I might do that anyway. So many children have no home, and it would be wonderful to give them that.” 

Jon nodded. “I agree, about not wanting to get married just to be married. It’s meaningless then. I was actually thinking about that...the night before the switch happened. That maybe I should have stayed with her and accepted her terms, because I’d end up never getting married anyway. I thought I was too heartbroken. That I wouldn’t ever fall in love again.” 

“Is that how you feel now? I need to know this, Jon, and I’m sorry to put this question on you, but I don’t want to act in a way that will harm your relationship with her, if you think you’ll want to do that, but I also don’t want to give her false hope, if you’re certain you won’t go back to her and accept her terms.” 

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I don’t want to just...give up my lifelong desire to build a house and make it a home. To have a wife and children and a tradition we created together. But I don’t want to just be with someone because we want the same things. Like a business merger or something.” 

“That’s fair.”

“Is it enough?”

“I think so. Being confused and unsure is a normal and understandable feeling in your position.” 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“If your bosses offered you your job back, would you take it?” 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

“What if they offered you a partnership?” 

“They won’t. And...it wasn’t just the partnership. It was the principle. If they’d given it to Tyrion Lannister, I’d have been disappointed, but it would have made sense. I would have understood. If they’d given it to someone who worked as hard as I did, I could have made peace with it. But instead it was just...such a farce, and it made me feel really devalued.” 

Jon nodded. “I can see that.” 

“When we see Mace Tyrell, please make sure to be respectful. I’m good friends with his son and I don’t want to be rude to him.” 

“Aye, I wasn’t planning to tell him to fuck off.” 

She laughed. “Good. And how do you wish me to behave toward Ygritte?” 

“I...be kind to her. Treat her as you would treat a friend.” 

“And if she wishes to resume your relationship?” 

“That won’t happen. She was angry that I asked her to marry me.”

“I understand that. But what if she’s forgiven that? Or she’s decided to marry you after all?” 

Jon laughed. “I’m not going to try to make you marry her, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

She started laughing as well. “Of course not. I could tell her I have to finish the work on the closet. Then once we figure all this out and you get your body back...”

“Dany, that will not happen. She hates the entire institution of marriage. She thinks it’s ridiculous to involve religion or the government or a legal contract in a romantic relationship.” 

“I just want to be prepared for it, if it happens, Jon. I’m going to try to avoid those conversations anyway, because I don’t think it’s ethical to let her tell me things that are private, thinking I’m you. But I don’t want to lead her on and give her false hope if you wouldn’t take her back, and nor do I want to shut her down, if you would.” 

“Aye, I appreciate it. Best to tell her I don’t know. That I want to finish my work on your closet and I’ll call her after the holidays. If it even comes up. I doubt it will. I’d best get to reading this.” 

He picked up the pages she’d printed of the Northern Land Act And started reading. 

Daenerys 

Dany had written out her own statements, or rather, Jon’s. He had to be in character and give a performance, but so did she. She had little fear of courtrooms anymore, but to argue a case using someone else’s words and mannerisms was a different matter all together. Jon was intelligent, very much so, but “legalese” as he referred to her first draft of the remarks she intended to make, was not a vernacular he spoke. 

“I would never say any of this,” he had said. “You’re going to have to dumb this down.” 

She had laughed. “You’re not dumb, Jon. Not by any stretch. You knew exactly which rooms had shorts just by looking at a blueprint.” 

“That was common sense.” 

“Common sense? My brother would have shelled out that insane fee and closed the hotel for four months. And we certainly couldn’t guess which rooms had the shorts.” 

“Dany, if I start saying shit like “de facto ownership” or “joint tenancy” it will look really pretentious. Ygritte’s probably already wondering how the fuck I know about Section whatever, Article whatever, and filing injunctions and how to do that.”

“You can explain that while renovating my closet we talked about it,” she said. “And they’ll know we travelled together. They’ll expect I went over all this with you.” 

“Dany, if you don’t make this sound like me, won’t they be suspicious? Not about what’s actually happening. We can be confident about that. But if they think you guided me, wouldn’t that be bad?”

“They’ll expect me to guide you, too. But you make a valid point. It has to sound like your words, not mine.” 

And now she was rewording what she would say. 

She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was anxious about the possibility that Jon might get back with Ygritte. She was angry at herself for it. Jon was her friend. She had come to care about him. She should want him to be happy. And she did. She was distressed to find that she was jealous. 

This is stupid, Dany berated herself. It was not as if Jon was interested in her. He found her too high maintenance, and thought she spent too much on clothes and makeup and perfume. He’d rolled his eyes watching her choose perfumes to pack, wrapping them carefully, then sighed with exasperation when she’d chosen colognes for her to wear. She’d hesitated, asking if he would prefer it if she didn’t. It was his body, she wanted to respect it. 

“It’s yours right now, do what you want,” he’d said with a sigh. 

“No,” she’d said firmly. “If I’m going to expect you to wear my perfume and makeup, I should respect your wishes.” 

“It’s like you said, you’re not doing anything that will have permanent negative consequences. It’s fine. I just...It would be good if you weren’t spending so much. What will you do with all that when we get our bodies back?” 

“If you want it, you can have it. If not, I’ll donate it.” She held up the large green bottle. “I might actually wear this one myself.” 

He’d laughed then. “It’s a men’s cologne.” 

“I don’t care. I love it. I used to wear vetiver oil alone as a perfume. I love the Silver Mountain Water too, but it smells really masculine. The Aventus they make for women so if you don’t like it I’ll just -“

“I like all of it, Dany. I just don’t wear cologne. But I’m not allergic to it. Wear it if you want.” 

Daenerys smiled faintly as she thought about it. She liked to primp, and inhabiting a man’s body hadn’t changed that. But she knew she had to tone it down a little. She could still buff his nails, but not to the high shine she’d been doing. She could still take care of his beard but she had to get a slightly scruffier aesthetic. 

He may roll his eyes at her packing her skin essentials in travel sizes, “What the fuck is exfoliating?” He had demanded, but his skin was responding beautifully to it. 

She knew he was frustrated with her preening, found her lifestyle annoying. He respected her, she knew that too. He had called her “amazing,” and she was concerned about how much that had meant to her. How much he meant to her, in so short a time. It was dangerous. 

And in any event, his happiness with a woman he loved was more important than this crush she’d developed on him. She had to focus on that. She ran a hand through her hair and went back to writing up what she would say in the courtroom.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all had a Merry Christmas if you celebrate! (And a happy Friday and weekend if not!)  
> Jon and Dany take the trip North. Smut near the end, kind of explicit. Cmyatt01, thank you for the idea, I had a lot of fun with it, I hope it came out all right!

Jon 

It was surprisingly easy to find video clips of Daenerys. Jon had decided that watching her in his body to try to emulate her was not entirely going to work. Not for this. She had left her job, and she was defending laws she had been a part of writing. He knew this was important to her. She was trying not to pressure him, and she’d assured him a few times that he would have to say very little. But what little he did say, had to be meaningful. And had to look like it was _her_ and she knew what she was doing. 

Of course no one would suspect what had actually happened. But what if they thought she was off? That she was using drugs? That she was “slipping?” He couldn’t let that happen. He had to study her, her mannerisms. 

He had searched her name and the results were immediate. He hadn’t even had to finish writing her name, simply typing “Dae” and her name was suggested. He tapped it, and a line of pictures, articles, and videos immediately appeared. 

He scrolled through the pictures at first. He knew this wouldn’t be of any real value to his emulating her, but he couldn’t resist. Side by side, were two pictures of her. In one, she was wearing a cobalt blue gown that bared her back, her silvery hair in an elaborate updo, diamonds at her ears, her fingers, her wrist and neck, flawless makeup and a devastating smile. It was at some fundraising gala. In the other, she was deeply tanned, she wasn’t wearing makeup at all, and her hair was pulled into a braid down her back, tendrils escaping to frame her face. She wore jeans and boots and a tee shirt. It was in Essos. She wasn’t smiling in this one, she looked grim and determined.

The articles that accompanied the pictures fascinated him. Before he’d realized it, he’d spent an hour just reading articles. 

Then he returned to his original goal, and found the videos. One where she was fiercely denouncing the leaders of the trafficking rings. One where she was laughing brightly as she discussed her favorite comfort foods at a Harvest festival. 

One was a clip of her as a child, maybe ten or eleven, with her two brothers, explaining that children’s charities were important. “I have my brothers to look out for me,” She was telling the reporter, “But do you know, there are children all over who don’t have anyone to look out for them? Sometimes the people who are supposed to look out for them, hurt them, and sometimes they don’t have what they need to protect them, and sometimes the children just don’t have anyone at all. It’s very sad. We who have a lot, have an obligation to help. Why even have so much, if not to help people who have so little?” 

Jon smiled at the video. Her serious little face. 

It took some time to find videos of her in the courtroom, and there weren’t many. Those he found, made him frown anxiously. She was a _force._ How could he possibly emulate that? 

Jon was not so self deprecating to think he had no skills or talents of his own. But carefully framing questions in a manner that seemed innocent, innocuous, almost irrelevant, only to tie it together in one or two final questions that cinched her objective and left her witnesses sputtering, was not among them. 

_Gods_ , he thought, _what would it be like to have an argument with her?_ But then, he’d had arguments with her. She hadn’t brought this finely honed talent to those arguments. This was clearly a thing she saved for the courtroom. 

He was despairing of ever being able to manage this task before him, when she entered the train cabin, holding a tray of food.

“I got us breakfast,” she told him as he removed his ear buds. “You can listen to your music, it’s fine.”

“I wasn’t,” he said. “I was watching clips of you in the courtroom. Dany, I don’t think I can do this.” 

“You can, Jon. Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re passionate and you care about this cause. And really, don’t worry too much about it. You’ll barely have to say anything,” she assured him, “but you want to be prepared in case you’re directly asked. I’ve texted some attorneys who are based in the North, you should have official representation.” 

“You are phenomenal. I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

She grinned then. “No? Watch this.” She pulled out her phone, tapped it a few times, then handed it over. 

Jon watched the video; it was of Tyrion Lannister questioning a witness. Jon knew then why Daenerys had said she’d have understood if this man had gotten the promotion she’d wanted.

“Fuck me,” he said.

“Right?” She responded. “He’s a force of nature. Just brilliant.” 

“You’re brilliant too, Dany.” 

She smiled at him. “Thank you. That means a lot. Please don’t worry yourself sick over this. We will win.”

“You’re not nervous?” 

“Of course I’m nervous! Too much is riding on this. But the laws passed and now they only need to be reinforced.” 

The train pulled in at Wintertown. Tormund had said he’d pick them up, and drive them to the apartment Jon was renting. Jon knew his mother and uncle and cousins would all want to see him, but he wanted Dany to get her bearings first. His family knew him, especially his mother, his Uncle Ned, and his cousin Arya. They might figure out something was off, if they didn’t practice. Jon had shown her the pictures in his phone of his family so she would recognize them when seeing them. 

He sat still as she applied makeup, then braided his hair. She had tied her hair into a ponytail as Jon said he wore when working. 

And then they stepped out of the train and into the crowded station. As soon as they were outside, Dany’s prediction proved true. Photographers were snapping pictures and hitting him with questions about the case.

Fortunately Dany had prepared him for this. He smiled at them as he had seen her do when confronted by cameras and microphones, and stated that “No, I’m not officially representing the residents of Hardhome. I will be advising them and their attorneys. What Roose Bolton is doing is a violation of the Northern Land Act. We are optimistic that once Mr. Bolton realizes this, he will cease his attempt to circumvent the law.” 

Jon and Dany then moved away from the photographers. Jon knew Dany had been posting about this on her social media accounts, and it had resulted in millions of others doing so. Jon found it fascinating and terrifying that she could command such influence, and was angry that some had suggested she was only posting to make Bolton look bad, to drum up business for her own family. 

She had laughed, assuring him that she’d always had detractors, and there was too much evidence of her being involved with this matter long before Bolton had anything to do with it. But she gave him a tender smile, reaching for his hand and holding it. 

“I really appreciate your defending me,” she said. 

Now they were looking for Tormund’s old truck, but they saw Tormund before the old blue pickup. Or rather, he saw them. He emerged from the crowd, grabbing Dany and pulling her into his bear-like grip. 

“Little crow!” He bellowed, an old nickname he’d pinned on Jon because of his predilection for wearing black. 

“Hey, Tormund,” Dany said. “This is Daenerys -“ 

“I remember Daenerys,” Tormund said, and then Jon found himself buried in Tormund’s embrace. “You don’t remember me, I’ll wager. But I remember you.” He turned back to Daenerys. “She was here a few years ago, she and that city fellow who helped us get the forests protected.” 

Jon was surprised Tormund remembered Daenerys. He hadn’t known any of the people at that side of the protest. He’d have remembered her. That face. How could he possibly ever forget? 

They climbed into the truck and Tormund kept up a steady stream of conversation. 

“Wait til Ygritte sees you, little crow. You look good. She’s been missing you,” He said. 

Jon glanced at Dany, but he couldn’t see what she was thinking.

“Aye, I’ve been missing her too,” she said, and she had gotten what she called his “Northern burr” down perfectly. 

Jon did miss Ygritte. But he hadn’t been hurting as much over their breakup since he’d met Daenerys. Sure, a part of that was their situation. But a part of it, the larger part he suspected, was his growing attachment to Dany. It wasn’t possible, he reasoned, to have fallen in love that quickly. 

He’d only met her three weeks ago. How had she infiltrated all this thoughts? 

_Occupying my body helps,_ he told himself. _I like her. I enjoy her company. We both care about people and try to help them. We both think recessed lighting with dimmers kick ass and we both like pizza and steak. We find each other attractive and we both dislike cilantro. We admire each other. That’s not enough to call it love._

He realized he was arguing with himself silently, and decided to try to think about something else. 

What were they talking about? Ygritte. His girlfriend of three years who he _loved._

Daenerys 

Dany was nervous. Not about the case, although that was the most important thing on her mind. Her brother Rhaegar had texted to say he was coming to offer support. Jon’s family would likely show up, too. And there was a very good chance she would meet Ygritte _in Jon’s body._

If they figured something was off, they would be unlikely to guess the cause. But they might think something was wrong, really wrong. 

She listened to Tormund, who hadn’t stopped talking for more than a minute at a time. It was as if the man sensed tension and was trying to break it. She appreciated it. Jon had insisted on sitting in the back seat, so Dany was next to the red haired giant, who was talking about ice fishing now. 

He finally pulled the pickup into the driveway of a charmingly rustic apartment complex. 

“You need anything, let me know. And thank you.” He turned to Jon. “Thank you both. You two are saving our home.” 

He hugged Dany again, then hugged Jon. “You need help getting those bags up?” 

“No, but thank you.” 

Dany hoisted the bags over her shoulder. She really did enjoy how strong Jon’s body was, and after almost three weeks of no cigarettes, that annoying cough she’d woken up with was gone. 

“Do you want me to carry something?” Jon asked. 

“No. I’m the one who insisted on bringing all this.” 

“Aye, but you shouldn’t have to carry everything.”

“Once I get my own body back, we can share,” she said, grinning at him. 

Dany liked the complex. It was mostly wood, and the apartment doors were all along a kind of long terrace instead of hallways. She commented on this and he chuckled. 

“It’s a garden style. You can’t tell now because of the snow, but there’s a pool down there in the courtyard.” 

“Garden style?” 

“Aye. It has a breezeway instead of interior hallways, kind of low rise. It has a garden too. It’s not as pretty in the winter as summer, but it looks great and they’ll be doing a tree lighting in the next day or two.” 

At Daenerys’ gasp of delight, he chuckled again. 

“Can we go?”

“Aye. I’m a tenant.” 

She gave a little squeal. “Thank you, Jon.” 

“Least I could do, considering you dropped all you were doing to come here.”

They entered his apartment, and she looked around curiously. It was spare, but pictures of family members and drawings of houses were on the walls. 

The navy blue couch and its matching chair were large and looked soft. In front of these, was an oak table with architectural magazines lain across it, a few books, and a bowl of rocks, some round and smooth, some rough and glittering, a few quartz crystals and shells. 

The bedroom too was not overly decorated, though these walls, like in the living room, were full of photographs. Mostly of family, some of landscapes. She’d noticed in the living room and more pronounced here, blank spots with only the nail remaining. She glanced at him quizzically. 

“I took down the pictures of Ygritte,” he explained. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

He shrugged, and she realized he was watching her examine his space. He looked nervous, and she smiled. “It looks great.” 

“Not a palace like yours.” 

“No, but...it’s good. A lot of family pictures. It’s warmer than mine.” 

“It’s bloody cold in here,” he retorted, and walked around turning on heaters. 

“I meant the decor,” she said with a giggle. “Yours is more homey than mine. I like it.” 

There was a sword hanging on the wall, and she studied it. It was quite beautiful, formed with steel of an old technology lost to the ages. 

“This is gorgeous,” she told him. 

“It’s a family heirloom,” he said. “It belonged to an ancestor. Robb’s getting the castle, but I got the sword,” he said with a small chuckle. 

She studied the bed. It was a big bed, looked like a California King...but...

“There’s a couch in the office,” he said. “I’ll take that.” 

“Oh, no! I’m not going to put you out of your room.” She left the room, finding the office, and he followed her, chuckling again.

“I’m trying to show you around and you’re just exploring,” he said when she glanced back. 

The office was a little smaller than the bedroom, but it had two large picture windows and it did indeed have a couch. Said couch was covered with blueprints, books and tools, but that would be easy enough to clean off.

Here the walls were all photos of landscapes, buildings, houses. And along one space of the wooden walls - real wood, not paneling - were a few photos that looked like the same place, but at different seasons. 

Trees, some evergreens and others seasonal, a waterfall, a creek, and a great open space. 

In one picture, it was pristine and covered in snow, a cardinal in violent red against the white of a snowy fir it was perched upon. In another it was lush and green. In yet another, the tender pale and yellowy green of spring, one of the trees decked out in white flowers, another in pink. Then one with the golds and reds and browns of fall. Mixed in this display, was a framed blueprint of four floors, and then beside it a few drawings of the house the blueprints represented. She looked at it in wonder. She took some time here; the details were exquisite. 

She turned to Jon, and his face, well, her face, really, but she thought she must have hurt him. His expression was one of aching and sadness. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, walking to him and touching his arm. 

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just...” he laughed then, but it looked like it hurt. “I think you just spent more time looking at those than Ygritte did in the entire three years we were together.” 

She frowned. “That’s impossible.”

“She didn’t come in here that often. And those pictures in particular...she didn’t like.”

“What’s not to like?”

“That’s the place I bought. I designed the house, and -“

“You designed that?” He nodded, and she gasped. “Jon, I don’t even know what to say. It’s stunning.” 

“It’s all right,” he said, shrugging. 

“All right? Jon, it’s brilliant. The way you use space here, nothing is wasted. And it’s gorgeous. With all the stone and glass and wood, it looks like it sprang out of the ground, it’s perfect. And this greenhouse here, you’ll have flowers and fruit trees all year.” 

“Aye,” He said, flushing a little. “My family’s castle has one. I knew when I was very young that I wanted one too one day.” 

“Jon, you’ve truly created something beautiful here.” 

“Well...not yet. But thank you.” 

“Not yet?” 

“It’s not built yet.” 

“Oh.” She realized this must be _the_ house. That this was the spot he’d proposed. And was rejected. “I’m hungry,” she said, changing the subject abruptly. She knew he didn’t like to dwell on this. “What’s the pizza like here?” 

“Pretty good. Maybe not as good as in Kings Landing. But good.” 

“Let’s order some. Do you have any wine?” 

“Is beer ok?”

“Perfect.” 

She laid the bags down on the couch, on top of the books, figuring she’d clear it later, then walked out into the living room, sitting down on the couch there.

“This is a truly superior couch you’ve got here, Jon Snow.” 

Jon grinned at her from the doorway as he entered with two cold bottles of beer. 

“I’m glad you like it. You know, the hearing isn’t for a few days. And I have an aged whiskey I got as a gift a few years ago.” 

“Aged whiskey?” She sat up straight In excitement. 

He laid the bottles of beer on the table, but only after laying out small mosaic tiled coasters, and she smiled. The table was a gorgeous old wood and she was mildly impressed. Then she felt guilty. Why should she not have expected him to have good pieces, and the wisdom to want to protect them?

“It’s a seventy year old Macallan,” Jon said, walking toward a liquor cabinet, removing the bottle, still in its box. 

Dany gave a low whistle. “Nice gift,” she remarked. She had diamond bracelets that hadn’t cost what that liquor would. She knew, because they had a precious few bottles at the Red Keep, and only the wealthiest guests ever bought it. 

“Aye, it was a graduation present. From my grandfather. He’s a connoisseur of booze in his old age,” he chuckled. “I was saving it for a special occasion.” 

“Well...this isn’t a special occasion, Jon. I don’t want to -“

“It is, actually.” He brought the bottle and two crystal glasses, and she laid out coasters for them. “I...haven’t been in the office. My office, I mean. I haven’t looked at those pictures. Of my land, or the house. Not since the breakup. I even thought I might not build it. I’ve been bad, Dany. But today...I don’t know. It didn’t hurt as much. I think I’ll build it one day, after all.” 

She smiled at him. “All right then. Let’s toast to your house.” 

He grinned back. They toasted and drank. 

Jon ordered the pizza and put on some music, looking at her questioningly. 

“Sounds good,” she said. “So...how long before it’s permissible to tease you?” 

“Tease me?” 

“About your getting mad at me over my bags and jeans, with an eighty thousand dollar whiskey in your cabinet?” 

Jon choked on his whiskey. “ _What_?” 

Now she laughed. “You didn’t know?” 

“Fuck me.”

For some reason this sent her into gales of laughter. 

He looked at her ruefully. 

“We don’t have to drink more,” she said, when she was able to stop giggling. “Or I’ll just send you another bottle.” 

“No. This is perfect.” 

The pizza came and they attacked it ravenously, then went back to drinking.

“It’s so strange,” Jon noted. “To look at you, and it’s my own face.”

“It sure is.” 

“And I don’t...I mean, I’m not attracted to _myself._ But I’m very attracted to you.” 

Dany nodded. “Same here. It’s the weirdest thing.” 

“Have you...” he broke off, flushing.

“What?” He shook his head, and she swatted his arm with one of the couch pillows. “Come on!” 

He laughed. “I was wondering if you...well...if you’d touched yourself. Since we talked.” 

“Oh.” Now she flushed. “I don’t really know how.” 

“You don’t know how?”

“I mean, I know how to...like if it’s someone else. I’ve done things. But...usually with my mouth. Not my hand. I’m pretty flexible...or you are, I suppose...but not _that_ flexible. Not enough to get my mouth down there. Have you?” 

“No. It’s the same thing. I’ve used my mouth and fingers, but not...not like it was a part of me, you know?” 

She nodded, sipped her whiskey. “So...how do you do it exactly?” 

“How?” He drank. “All right. So you take it in your hand.”

“I figured that part out,” she said, grinning. “Do you use lube?” 

“Lube?” 

“To get it wet.”

“Oh. I just spit in my hand.” He saw her wrinkled nose and laughed. “Well, what did you do?” 

“I get wet when I start, like...automatically,” she said, giggling. 

“No I meant...with a guy.” 

“Oh. Well I used my mouth. So...”

“So it’s spit anyway,” he said, and she was giggling again. 

“Ok. Good point. What if we got naked?” 

Jon choked on his whiskey again. “Dammit, woman. You’re just determined to make me spit all this out through my nose.” 

“I think it will help. We’ve already seen each other naked.” 

He seemed to ponder this, then nodded. “All right.” 

“Should we...dim the lights or something?” 

“Well...we could, but...”

“But this is educational,” she noted, standing and pulling off her shirt. “We’ll want to see.” 

“Aye,” He said, and started to slowly, carefully take off his own clothes. “You’re a bit of an exhibitionist, aren’t you?” 

She laughed. “Not really. But I can’t say I’m overly modest, either. Anyway, we should really be comfortable. It’s our own bodies.” 

“Aye,” he said. “So...you take it in your hand and start moving back and forth, like...Aye, like that,” he said, watching. 

“This would be better if I could use my tongue,” she said. 

“You’re right about that.” 

“Like, how do you play here?” She moved her fingers over the tender bit of skin just under the head. “I can’t lick at it. And I can’t be licking and sucking here, and also play with the balls. And that skin between -“

“Seven hells,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “You really...” he was flushing again, and she giggled, sipping again at her whiskey. 

“I get into it. Yeah. I do. Ok, let’s talk about you. Well. Me. Me, but you. So you can start at the clitoris. If you’re just trying to be quick, that’s a pretty effective way to do it. But it’s much better to start there, then move away a little, and go back. And when you’re ready to start the endgame -“

“Endgame?” 

“To make yourself come.” 

“Wasn’t that the point?”

“Sure. But why rush? We should have tried this back at my apartment. I have toys.” 

“Fuck me.” 

She grinned. “Considering our current situation, you might want to be careful with that expression.” 

“So what, do you masturbate for hours at a time?” 

She shrugged, unabashed. “Why shouldn’t I? I’ve been single for years. And I enjoy sex. And if I can fill an entire Saturday with orgasms, why shouldn’t I?” 

His gaze was suddenly intense. “Gods,” he managed. “If we could switch right now...”

She licked her lips. She had a pretty good idea what they would be doing if they could switch back right then. 

“Ok...if you’re comfortable, I’ll show you. Lean back.” 

He looked at her nervously, but obeyed. She moved closer to him, and started moving her fingers over her own body, one finger playing with her clit, another moving into her vagina. 

Jon gasped, staring at her, then his head fell back. He reached his hand over, catching hold of his own cock, slowly moving his hand up and down. Then faster. Then slower. 

“Gods,” she ground out, echoing his earlier sentiment. 

The chiming of the phone interrupted them, and they looked at each other, dazed. 

“Should we...?” Daenerys whispered.

“Ignore it,” Jon urged. But after it stopped it started up again. 

“We should at least see who’s calling you,” she said, sighing regretfully. 

He leaned over to look at his phone. “Arya,” He said. 

Daenerys picked up the phone, putting it on speaker so Jon could hear. 

“Hey, Arya.” 

“Are you home yet?” 

“Aye. Got in about two hours ago. I sent a text.”

“Are you coming to Winterfell? I don’t mind having Ghost here, but I thought you’d want to see him.”

“I’ll be over tomorrow or the next day. I’m trying to get ready for the hearing. I’m sorry about that.” 

“It’s all right, I just got a little worried. Have you been drinking?” 

“A little. I opened the Macallan with Dany.” 

“Dany,” Arya repeated, a playful laugh in her voice. “Well don’t let me interrupt you and _Dany_ working so hard on the hearing you needed to start drinking.” 

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Or text. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Ok. Love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping the whiskey, then, with some regret, started getting dressed. 

“We really should sleep,” Dany noted. 

“You can have the bed. Really. I’ll stay in the office.” 

“I’m not putting you out of your bed.” 

“You know...it’s a big bed. And we’ve been more than a little familiar. We should both be as rested as possible the next two days.”

They finished their whiskey, rinsed the glasses, and headed toward the bedroom. They stripped in silence, then claimed into bed. 

Dany wondered if Jon was as frustrated as she was, as full of want and need and desire. If he wanted as she did to go back to what they’d been doing before the phone rang and sent them both into awkward embarrassment. 

She took a long time to fall asleep.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> The hearing happens, Ygritte has some choice things to say, Rhaegar and Lyanna meet and it’s clear it’s not their first meeting, and Dany and Jon get into a small argument. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading and commenting and who have left kudos. Your support is amazing. 
> 
> I hope you all had a great Holiday season!

Jon 

It had been a bit of foolery figuring out who should drive. The black Jeep Wrangler was Jon’s car, but Dany was in his body. It might look odd if he was having her drive, and that’s how it would seem.

“Can you even drive?” He demanded.

“Of course I can drive!” 

“I didn’t see a car and we were at your place for three weeks.” 

“Because parking is impossible in the city,” she shot back. “We have a summer house in the Stormlands. My cars are there.” 

“Cars?” 

“I have three.”

“Of fucking course you do.” 

“Well one is for my regular driving. It’s a cream Lexus. And then one is for when I have to go somewhere like this, where I need good traction and off roading. It’s a green Mercedes G-Class. And one is just for my me time. To be free and drive just for the joy of it. It’s a black convertible Jaguar.”

“You are insane.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Look, it’s up to you.” 

He handed her the keys. “I hope you’re a good driver,” he muttered. 

Jon was relieved that she was indeed a good driver, but as they pulled up to the courthouse and he saw a crowd of reporters, the relief vanished.

The experience of the sudden concentrated attention of dozens of cameramen, and microphones in his face, was never going to be something he could get accustomed to. Dany took his arm and steered him purposefully forward, as this was clearly something she was accustomed to. They entered the courthouse and people immediately approached them. Petyr Baelish took his other arm and leaned in. 

“Hi, Dany,” he murmured. “I’m glad you’re here. We’ve been able to secure representation for the residents of Hardhome, but I think you’re right, it will likely be settled here today. Cersei Lannister ripped Bolton a new one on her show, and while that has no official bearing on the case, it’s stirred up a lot of public interest. All your social media commentary helped, too,” he added, flashing a grin. “And the judge is Jorah Mormont. His father Jeor Mormont spent a lot of his life pretty much set against the people North of the Wall, but you know he became more sympathetic in his age.” 

_Aye,_ Jon thought. He knew that well. He’d done an internship in college working with Senator Mormont. He had been taking a required sociology course, and he’d chosen that internship because Mormont was involved in the rocky, and occasionally violent trade and commerce situation with the people living North of the Wall. He lived at Castle Black, an old keep at the Wall, and Jon had wanted to study the architecture there. 

“So he’s likely to lean in our favor,” Baelish was saying. “And of course I know you have too much integrity for it to make a big difference, and truthfully so does he, but it won’t hurt one bit that he’s so sweet on you.” 

Jon turned to Baelish in surprise. “Sweet on me?”

“I know. Who isn’t? But we have the law on our side, we have all the documentation, public opinion is on our side. I’m confident this will be settled today. Congressman Tyrell is here. He’s laying groundwork.” 

Jon nodded, but now he was anxious. Jorah Mormont was “sweet on” Dany? 

Was Baelish sweet on her too? Was everyone? 

He glanced at Dany, who was talking to Mance Rayder, Hardhome’s community leader, the closest thing they had in their culture to a senator, governor or president. 

Jon knew Mance well, they’d become friends during the protests. Mance saw him and nodded. 

“Daenerys,” he greeted. “We are very grateful to you for coming.” 

Jon nodded. He wondered wildly if Mance was “sweet on her” too. 

_Mance is married,_ he reminded himself. Well, not married in the technical legal sense. But he’d been with his woman, Dalla, for years. The closest thing to marriage his culture had. 

_Stop it,_ he told himself. He was being paranoid now. 

And anyway, maybe Baelish was lying. Jon didn’t trust Baelish one bit. There had been a scandal a few years back involving him, and then suddenly the papers and news sites just stopped reporting it. The original reports had disappeared. 

They entered the courtroom, and sat down. He saw Ygritte, who walked up to Dany, hugging her. Dany returned the hug quite naturally. He envied her poise. 

“You look _good_ ,” Ygritte breathed at Dany. “Smell good, too. Expensive.” 

Mance carefully led Ygritte to a chair and Jon released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

He was called upon to speak, but as Dany had said, it was very brief, only to state the articles in the Land Act that applied to Hardhome. Congressman Tyrell, aware of Dany’s position with the Boltons and her own family, waited for Jon to go over the salient points Dany had essentially had him memorize, then stood to speak as well. 

Dany stood at one point to go over the purpose of the protests, and the protectiveness the people of the “true North,” as they called it, felt of the land, the forests, and the communities they’d built. Jon couldn’t help the awe he felt at how much she was able to convey with so few words. Then she turned the floor over to Mance Rayder, who stated that he had not given permission, verbal or written, for Roose Bolton to build anything at Hardhome. 

Bolton, for his part, having blanched slightly when Jon had mentioned the fines and penalties of what he’d done, said that he was not aware of the law. He made some apologies and said he had been under the impression that the Northern Land Act primarily referred to the forests and would examine the Act more closely.

Jon wanted to turn around and hug Daenerys. She’d known this could happen, and she’d written in the additional protections. 

After the hearing, he walked to the restroom. He wanted a cigarette. There was no way he would disrespect Dany like that. He felt as if he understood suddenly what people meant when they spoke of the body being a temple. 

He respected this body’s owner far too much. _Respect,_ he mocked himself. What he had felt as he’d gone over the sections of the Act that protected communal property, property that the people hadn’t even recognized as such, and then, seeing Roose’s face cloud over, his attorney looking tense, as he fully realized what she had done, he knew this was far more than respect. 

He did respect her. Gods, so much and so deeply. But he knew with a sinking feeling that it went further than that. It was admiration, but more. It was more even than friendship. 

The door swung open, and Ygritte entered the rest room. 

She saw him, and her eyes raked him. He knew the look. It was cold, almost angry. Gods, she was beautiful when she was angry. 

“Yes?” Jon demanded, lifting his chin. Dany certainly wouldn’t be distracted by Ygritte’s beauty. Not when she was a walking work of art herself.

“I appreciate what you did,” Ygritte said coolly. “But if you think I don’t see what you’re trying to do, you’re wrong.” 

“What is it you think I’m trying to do?” Jon asked, emulating her coldness.

“You got him talking like a city boy. Fancy colognes and shit. You think he’d want a shallow city bitch like you?” 

Jon froze, and for the first time he was glad the switch had happened. Because he would not want Dany to have to deal with being spoken to in such a manner by a woman whose home she’d just saved. 

“I think it’s for for him to decide what he wants,” he said. 

“Aye, and I can promise, it’s not you. Walking around like lawyer Barbie, trying to impress him. You’re a Targaryen, aren’t you? I know you were considering smashing up one of our mountains to build a resort.” 

“I had nothing to do with that,” Jon shot back, remembering Dany telling him about Viserys’ plan. “In fact, I -“

“Keep it to yourself, city bitch. I know your type. You probably just got involved to get into Jon’s pants and fuck things up for a competitor of your family.”

Jon was angry now. “I wrote that section before I even met Jon.” 

“Aye, and it probably looked good on your resume. People like you only ever do things to forward your own ends. You don’t give a flying fuck about us, or anyone but yourself. Jon is not some pretty toy you can dress up and play with. He’ll see you for what you are. I hope he figures it out sooner than later.” 

Ygritte turned and stormed out of the rest room, and Jon realized he was shaking with anger. 

He almost splashed cold water on his face, and realized he would ruin the makeup Daenerys had carefully applied. 

He frowned. He was tempted to do it anyway, just to prove Daenerys was not shallow. Instead he took her lipstick out of her purse and carefully applied it to Dany’s lush mouth in the mirror. 

He felt a wave of hot shame, because he’d once thought the same thing. That women who put on makeup and spent so much on their appearance were shallow and silly. 

He knew better now. Daenerys, for all her many vanities, was just as deep, as faceted and _fascinating_ as Arya, who wore a ponytail and not a bit of makeup. 

He kept thinking about one of the videos he’d watched of her, tanned and messy and free of any makeup, talking about those trafficking rings. 

He had been wrong, and frankly judgmental. 

He took out his phone, studying it. He texted Arya. 

Jon: Hey Arya. Do you think girls who wear makeup are shallow? 

Arya: Wtf Jon? Did you and Sansa have a fight already? You haven’t even come home yet. 

Jon: No. Something Ygritte said. 

Arya: LMFAO. Ygritte’s probably jealous. Tell me you didn’t walk into that courtroom with Daenerys fucking Targaryen.

Jon: Well of course I did. She wrote part of the Northern Land Act. 

Arya: Particularly the part that’s going to save Hardhome. And spent her post graduation party years smashing trafficking rings and sweat shops. Doesn’t change the fact she looks like a goddess. 

Jon smiled. 

Jon: Aye, she does. The hearing is over. Bolton pleaded no contest. He’s probably going to try to get out of paying the fines, but he’s not going to try to demolish Hardhome. 

Arya: Awesome! Congratulations! Look, if you are going to try to make up with Ygritte then let her go off. She’s probably jealous because you’re walking around with another woman, who happens to be crazy beautiful. But not all girls who wear makeup are automatically shallow. We just think that because Sansa. 

She followed that comment with about fifteen laughing emojis. 

Jon chuckled to himself.

He walked out of the rest room and saw Daenerys. His heart started pounding as he saw that she was talking to Ygritte. 

_Fuck._

But then Tormund walked over to her and hugged her, and Jon was relieved. He walked over to them, ignoring the cold glance Ygritte gave him, then was swept into Tormund’s embrace. 

“Thank you,” Tormund bellowed. “You saved our home!” 

Jon glanced at Dany, who was smiling but something simmered there, under the surface. 

He leaned close to her. 

“Are you all right?” He murmured. 

She smiled at him. “I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was clipped. 

_What did she say to you?_

The court hallway was full of people, and he saw his mother walking toward them, then hugging Dany.

“I’m so proud of you! And look at you, I’m so glad to see you looking happier. How are you feeling?” 

“Good. How’ve you been?” Dany responded, smiling at her. 

“Not bad at all. Now that you’re here in the North, are you staying?” 

“Well, I...I could,” Dany sent a quick, questioning glance at Jon. 

He was flooded with warmth for her. Dany would be willing to stay, just because she thought he might wish it. 

His mother followed Dany’s glance and fixed on Jon. Her grey eyes widened a little. 

“This is Daenerys,” Dany said. “Dany, this is my mother, Lyanna,” she went on, introducing them as Jon had told her to, by her first name.

“Hello, Daenerys,” his mother said, and Jon thought there was a flash of something, almost painful, wistful, longing in her face, but then it was gone. “It’s so good to meet you.” 

“Likewise. Jon has told me so much about you,” Jon said, smiling at her. 

Then his mother’s face turned pale. “I should...” she broke off.

“Are you all right?” Dany asked her.

“What’s wrong?” Jon echoed. 

“Dany,” a voice boomed from behind them, and Jon was suddenly pulled into the embrace of Rhaegar Targaryen. “I’m so proud of you,” he said, releasing him. “You...” and then he trailed off, his own face paling, as he saw Jon’s mother. “Lyanna?” 

“Hi, Rhaegar,” she responded, her voice suddenly raspy.

“You know each other?” Dany asked. 

“We did. A long time ago,” Rhaegar said, and Jon realized that the two of them were just staring at each other.

“We were all going to get dinner tomorrow to celebrate,” Dany said. “Why don’t you two join us?” 

Jon’s mother turned to Dany with difficulty, as if it took an effort to tear her eyes from Rhaegar. “What? Oh. Yes. Yes, that would be lovely.”

“Lovely,” Rhaegar repeated, still staring at her. 

“Well...I’ll see you then, then. I mean. Then.” She laughed and turned abruptly, rushing out of the courthouse, and Rhaegar turned without another word and followed her.

“What the fuck was that about?” Jon said. 

Dany shrugged. “No idea. I wonder, though. Rhaegar said he dated a woman once, a few years before I was born. Do you think maybe it was her?” 

Jon frowned. His mother didn’t talk much about her life before she’d met his father, but surely she’d dated others. 

“Dany...what did Ygritte say to you?” 

A flash of hurt annoyance crossed her features. “We should go. I’ll tell you when we get to your place.” 

Daenerys 

The drive back to Jon’s apartment was silent. Daenerys was anxious. She knew that Jon wanted to know, and had a right to know, what Ygritte had said to her. 

But she was unsettled. This was her own fault. She’d gotten too attached to him. But how could she not? He was fun, and kind, and even his gruff moodiness had grown on her. 

They walked into his apartment and sat down on the couch, and Daenerys decided to just rip off the allegorical bandage.

“She said you look good. Again. She said...” she took a deep breath. “She thinks all this...extra upkeep...is my _influence_ on you. That I’m making you dress up and wear fancy cologne and...I mean I guess technically I am. But it’s not because I don’t like you as you were. It’s because I’m _in your body._ And I like to do it. It’s fun for me. Anyway...she said I’m shallow and I don’t really care about you and I just want you to be my _ornament.”_

“Fuck me,” Jon muttered. “Dany, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not true. I swear, it isn’t.”

“I never thought it was.” 

“I think she thinks we’re seeing each other. Or something. She’s jealous, Jon. Because she still loves you.”

Jon nodded. “It’s possible.” 

“We have a bit of an issue.” 

“Do we?”

“She wants to meet with you. Tomorrow. Me, but you. She wants to talk.” 

“And you don’t think you can be me for that length of time.” 

“It’s not that, Jon. It’s...I don’t know her. But she would be telling me things that are private. It would be a violation.” 

“So you won’t meet with her because you don’t want to hear something personal.” 

Dany could see he was a little annoyed, and she couldn’t say she blamed him. 

“It just feels unethical.”

“Unethical,” he repeated, and she could see he was angry, could hear it in his voice. It was her own voice, she knew it well.

“I’m sorry, Jon. I just...”

“Whatever,” he snapped, and stood up. “I’m going to call for takeout. What do you want?” 

“Jon, I think we should talk about this.”

“Why? Maybe she’s changed her mind. Maybe she’ll marry me. But what’s that to you? Nothing.”

“That’s not true, Jon. I just...I don’t know what you would even say to her.”

“You could wear a Bluetooth or something. I could tell you what to say.” 

“You don’t think that’s unethical? At all?” 

“There’s no point in us talking about it, Dany. We’re just going to fight. If you’re not going to answer me, I’ll just get pizza.” 

He stormed into the next room and ordered the pizza. Dany studied her hands, his hands. These hands he’d have used to build a home for himself and Ygritte. Was she robbing him of his happiness?

The thought of him being with another woman made her ill. But the thought of taking away the future he wanted was worse. 

He came back into the living room and sat down. 

“All right,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “I’ll do it.” 

He sighed. “You don’t have to. How would you even do it? Ygritte would notice a Bluetooth. She’s not made a very good impression on you, but she’s not stupid.” 

“There are other ways. I’ve worn a wire. I know how to -“

“A wire?” Jon was angry again. “You’ve worn a wire, and you were complaining about ethics?” 

“They were traffickers, Jon! Selling human beings! The ethical standard I would apply to people who kidnap, torment, and sell human beings is _not_ the same standard I would apply to a woman who just wants her cranky boyfriend back.” 

Jon leaned back in his chair, then suddenly slumped forward, dropping his head into his hands. 

“Jon? Are you all right?” 

He looked up at her. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

“Jon -“

“No. You’re right,” he repeated. “You shouldn’t have to compromise your ethics to listen to her tell you things she likely wouldn’t knowing you were you, and not me. I shouldn’t have asked you. And to wear a wire? Fuck. I don’t know what I was thinking. I loved her so much, and I got caught up. But that’s no excuse.” 

“It’s not an excuse, it’s a reason. And it’s valid. You love her.” 

“I loved her,” he repeated. “I still care about her. But...” he broke off and for a moment he looked afraid. 

“What is it?” 

“Something I’ll talk about later. Maybe. Not now. Either way, I was wrong. I’m sorry.” 

She nodded. “I’m sorry too. We’ll figure out something.”

The pizza arrived and they ate in silence, then decided to take a nap and then go watch the tree lighting. They both fell into the bed, and Dany was full of longing. She’d known he’d loved Ygritte, why was she aching over it? She closed her eyes and forced herself not to think about it.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m so thankful to everyone leaving comments and kudos, thank you so much! 
> 
> Special thanks to cmyatt01 and SalmonofDoubt1972 for your awesome suggestions and permission to use them (which I did!) 
> 
> Jon and Dany get closer, attend a party, Ygritte goes a little crazy and Jon and Dany confess their feelings for each other.

Jon

When he woke, Jon was in Dany’s arms. She was asleep. The sky outside was turning a shade of purple that reminded him of her eyes. 

He loved her. 

He hadn’t fully realized it until today, when it had slammed into him. She hadn’t wanted to talk to Ygritte under the guise of being Jon, and at first he’d been angry. Now he was angry at himself for expecting that of her. 

But she was willing. Despite her reservations, despite the personal cost to her sense of integrity, she would have done it, because she wanted him to be happy. 

He regretted asking her. And now he realized he didn’t care all that much what Ygritte had to say. He cared about her. But he didn’t love her. Not anymore. 

He was angry at Ygritte. Not because she had refused his proposal. That he could understand. But she’d viciously berated a woman who had saved her home. Aye, they’d all contributed to the hearing, but it was Dany’s additions to the Land Act that had cinched it, that firmly placed Bolton on the wrong side of the law. 

And what must Ygritte think of Jon? That he would be so weak as to be an “ornament” to a “city bitch”. She’d known him for almost four years, had been with him for three. Did she think so little of him after all that time? 

He knew that eventually he would have his own body back. And then what? He would come back home. He would build his house, even if he would be in it alone with Ghost, but it was no longer Ygritte he would long for, it was this fierce little silver haired woman who had somehow taken his entire heart and soul while occupying his body.

He felt Dany stirring, and turned to her. 

She seemed to realize, though sleepily, the intimacy of their embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, starting to pull back. 

“No, don’t be,” Jon said, but she was getting up. He gave a regretful sigh and got up as well. They both started to get dressed. They’d planned to go to the tree lighting. Jon hated the sudden awkwardness between them, and he knew it was his fault. 

He’d asked her to do something she considered unethical. Then lashed out at her for refusing. 

“Dany?” 

She turned to him. “Yes?”

“I’m really sorry.” 

She blinked, surprised. “Jon, I understand. You don’t have to keep apologizing.” 

“I just...I know you’re upset.”

“It’s not that. I was angry. But you listened to my side, stopped pressuring me, and apologized. It’s fine. Really.” 

“Something’s wrong. I can tell.” 

She took a deep breath. “It’s nothing you did, Jon. I might feel the same way in your shoes. You wanted to know what she had to say, but you understand my position. You put my feelings ahead of your own desires, and that...” she shook her head. “You’re a really good man, Jon.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you. So...if it’s nothing I did, what is it?” 

She bit her lip. “I hope you know, I hope you believe me, that I never thought you weren’t good enough. Without all my regimens. I just like doing them.” 

“I know.” 

“And I was never looking to have you be my ornament. That’s ridiculous. I don’t want to speak ill of the woman you love -“

“Loved.”

“- but to me, and I don’t expect you to agree, I found what she said very insulting to both of us. She doesn’t know me. And she doesn’t know anything about our situation. So the insult to me is negligible. But she should have known better with you.” She took another deep breath. “All that said, she probably does know you better. She thinks we are...I don’t know. Doing something. And she’s probably jealous.” 

He nodded. She was likely right. And a month ago, he’d have been elated. Now, all he could think about was whether Dany was jealous. 

_Of course she isn’t_ , he chided himself. She was beautiful and brilliant and good hearted. She could have anyone. 

They walked outside, toward the garden area where other tenants were gathered. They watched as the tree at the center was lit. An enormous fir at the center of the garden, that had been there for decades. It suddenly came alive with thousands of lights, and cheers broke out among the tenants. He glanced at Dany, who was smiling, and turned at his glance. 

“Thank you for bringing me,” she said softly. 

They walked back to his apartment, and Jon made them both cocoa. 

“So...tomorrow night,” Jon said. 

“Yes?” 

“What am I wearing?” 

She sighed. “I know you hate this. I’m sorry. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am shallow. It’s just, my -“

“You aren’t shallow, Dany. She shouldn’t have said that to you.”

“She loves you. I can’t blame her for that. She -“

“You can’t?” 

“I mean...you’re amazing. You help people. You’re good and kind, and so fucking beautiful.” She laughed. “Anyway. I understand. She doesn’t know me, and she feels threatened because she doesn’t know what’s happening with us.”

“And you’re bloody stunning.” 

She offered a small smile. “Thanks. But I don’t think it would matter. I’m a woman and I’m with you. We’ve been distracted. I haven’t smoked. I’m doing all this upkeep. She probably thinks you’re happy. With me. And she’s jealous. Sometimes you don’t know how much something means to you until you lose it.” 

Jon didn’t get a chance to respond. The doorbell rang, and he turned sharply. 

He turned back to Dany, who was walking across the room to open it. 

Arya stood outside with Ghost, who rushed into the apartment. He ran around, sniffing, and Arya strolled in with a grin. “I figured you’d want to see him,” she was saying. She saw Jon and grinned. “Hi. I’m Arya.” She walked over, shaking his hand, and Jon smiled back. 

“I’m Daenerys,” he said. 

Ghost rushed to Daenerys, sniffing, then cocked his head to one side. He resumed sniffing, then rushed at Jon, jumping on him, almost knocking him over. 

“He likes you,” Arya said, reaching out and steadying him. She glanced at Dany, then back at Jon. “Ok, what is going on?” 

Jon started laughing, then Dany joined in.

“Let’s order dinner,” she suggested. 

They sat together, talking primarily about the case. Arya didn’t press her question, but Jon could tell she knew something was off, particularly when Ghost went to Dany, sniffing her fingers and licking them in approval, but returning to Jon to curl up beside him contentedly. Or when she asked Dany a question about a glitch happening with her Switch and Jon explained what was probably wrong with it and how to fix the issue. Or when she asked Jon some questions about Essos, especially those regarding language, and Dany answered them. 

When the takeout arrived, they ate enthusiastically, and Jon wondered what Arya was thinking. She left an hour later, taking Ghost with her, arguing that “you’re going back to Kings Landing to finish Daenerys’ closet anyway.” 

Dany went to wash her face and apply her potions, and Jon did the same. He was a little anxious about the dinner party. He knew Dany would insist on dressing up and he would do as she asked. He’d tried practicing on her heeled shoes, and was getting better. He couldn’t stop the gnawing of guilt that he and Ygritte had made her feel as if she were shallow. 

They laid down on the bed, and Dany asked if he was sure it was all right.

“I’m sure,” he said. He wanted to add that he would be perfectly happy if she shared his bed forever, but he didn’t. 

Daenerys 

Jon was looking at the dress she’d chosen in dread, and she laughed. 

“You don’t have to wear this,” she assured him, seeing the look on his face. 

“I will, if you want me to,” he said, but she shook her head.

“No. I can see you aren’t comfortable with it.” 

She did love the dress. It was cobalt blue and strapless. She should have considered that Jon might not want to wear something like that. 

She looked through her luggage for something else, but Jon gently caught her shoulder. 

“Dany. I’ll wear it. It’s fine. What are you wearing?” 

“Well...” she flushed. “I have a pick, but it’s up to you. Your body, your choice.” 

“Let’s see.” 

She presented the suit she had in mind; it was navy blue, but she’d also bought it in black and dark grey, which she showed him as well.

“I know you wear more black. I’ll wear the black one. I don’t have to wear the vest. I don’t have to wear this at all. Would you even wear a suit?” 

He was laughing, looking at her with a gentle If teasing expression. “I can’t say I would buy a three piece Armani suit in any color, let alone three. I always wear black. It’s true. But...maybe tonight I’ll try something different. Wear the blue one. Go for all three pieces. Shine up those fingernails. Ygritte wants to accuse me of being an ornament? Go all out.” 

She laughed. “I want you to feel comfortable with how I’m presenting you.”

“When you were doing what you wanted, several people said I look great. When I was doing what I wanted, they all said you looked pale and asked if you were all right.”

“It’s not only about looks, Jon, it’s about your inherent identity.” 

“My inherent identity is, I don’t give a fuck about clothes or any of this. One night dressing up for a fancy ass party won’t change that.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Aye. How much were these suits, anyway?” 

“I’d rather not tell you,” she said, grinning. “We’ve been getting on so well.” 

She took a shower, then he did, and then he sat patiently as she applied makeup, spent too much time on his hair, then helped him into this dress that she could see he thought was an abomination, until he looked into the mirror. 

“ _Gods_ ,” Jon murmured. “It’s like you transformed yourself from an exquisitely beautiful goddess-like being, to something beyond that, something so otherworldly...I don’t even have words.”

She laughed, blushing. “Thank you,” she said and stood beside him. 

She was studying her own reflection...his, really...she’d put on the navy slacks and vest, a plain silk button down shirt, agreeing not to wear a tie because “I don’t do that,” he’d said firmly, and looking at him...his body accentuated by the shirt and suit, his lush black curls falling to his shoulders. Something about a finely tailored suit on that body of his, and his tumbling curls...

“Fuck,” she muttered, turning away and sitting down. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning regretfully from the mirror to look at her in concern.

“I’m trying to imagine a Baratheon orgy because I just gave myself a fucking hard-on,” she muttered, and Jon started laughing. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yes. It’s embarrassing and I would appreciate you not laughing at me.” 

“I’m sorry. I just...I’m glad not to be alone.” 

“I know for a fact that body doesn’t include the hard-on feature,” she said. 

“No, but...there’s this kind of...” he flushed. “This wet thing happening...”

Now she laughed. “If we don’t get our bodies back we’re going to turn into terrible narcissists.” 

“Aye. All day every day in the mirror.” 

Dany finally managed to imagine enough gross images to allay the issue, and stood up, avoiding the mirror. This man was just too damn beautiful, she’d be at attention all night. 

Jon

He wondered how Dany functioned day to day being this insanely beautiful. How she managed not to even know. He was still reeling from the image in the mirror. 

They arrived at Queenscrown, where the party was being held, and they were immediately besieged with cameras until they made it inside. 

Jon saw his mother with Rhaegar, and they both walked over to them, greeting them and looking happy. Jon had only rarely seen his mother look quite so...glowing. She looked like she was glowing from within. 

Jon was limiting his alcohol intake, worried he’d fall in these heels or have a “wardrobe malfunction” that might show the room Dany’s perfect tits, and Dany was doing the same because she was driving. 

Jon was fascinated watching her. She’d taken off her suit jacket early on, as Jon had advised her he likely would, and she’d managed to emulate him so well it was a little frightening. 

He was trying not to be self conscious. Men stared at him everywhere he walked. One offered to buy him a drink. 

“It’s an open bar,” he pointed out.

“True,” he responded. “Maybe another time?” 

Jon hesitated. “I’ll think about it,” he said. He wanted to tell him to go to hell, but what if Dany liked the guy? He couldn’t stand the idea of her dating anyone, but really, he had no right to stop her. 

“Hello, Dany. Could I have a moment?” A familiar voice asked, and he turned to see Tyrion Lannister. 

“Of course,” Jon responded. He knew Daenerys admired this man, so he followed him to a booth and sat down.

“I owe you an apology,” Tyrion said.

“An apology?” 

“We all know you should have gotten the promotion.” 

“Oh! That wasn’t your fault. In fact, if they’d given it to you, I wouldn’t have quit.” 

“Yes, you’d mentioned that. It’s been on my mind since then. They offered it to me.” 

“They did?” Jon was a little uncomfortable now. Was this the same ethical thing Daenerys was talking about? Was he violating her privacy? Or Tyrion’s? 

“They did. As you know, I’m retiring in only a few years. I’m ready to buy that vineyard we talked about.” He laughed and Jon tried to laugh as well. As if he knew what the man was talking about. “But I knew you were their next choice. You deserved it. You earned it. Stannis recommended you for it and so did I. We both advised against Joffrey being given the promotion.” 

“Thank you. But...Then why did they give it to him?” 

“Well...” he took a breath. “You remember that whole mess with Baelish and the brothels.” 

“I...” Jon only vaguely remembered the stories, and they’d disappeared without a trace a few days later. “I don’t know the whole story,” he said carefully. 

Tyrion smiled. “Good answer, Dany. Very politic. Of course you don’t. But Joffrey had much more information about it than we realized. I trust you will keep this between us.” 

“Of course,” Jon said. He had every intention of telling Dany, but Tyrion had intended to tell this to her anyway. “So he blackmailed Baelish.” 

“He did. I thought you had a right to know. The promotion should have been yours. They regret it, I can tell you that much. We lost thirty eight accounts the day our clients found out you were gone. We miss you. I miss you. You’re a good friend and were a great asset. Joff by contrast is a liability.” 

“Thank you for telling me.” 

“Have you considered setting up your own practice?” 

“I really haven’t decided yet.” 

“Well if you do, quite a few of us, myself included, would come work for you.” 

Jon laughed at that, trying to emulate Dany’s playful giggle. “You’re pretty much my idol. I couldn’t have you work for me.” 

Tyrion smiled. “Well, I’d be honored to work for you. It’s rare that much skill and integrity exist together.” 

“Thank you, Tyrion.” 

“My pleasure.” 

Jon was a little overwhelmed. He was eager to tell this to Dany, who was across the room laughing at something Tormund was saying.

Jon slipped into the rest room, trying to conceal his annoyance at this dress, then after doing his business, washed his hands and took out the lipstick from Dany’s jeweled purse, almost laughing at how well he’d learned to apply it. 

Ygritte walked in, and Jon almost cursed out loud. 

She looked good, but almost as uncomfortable as himself in the dress she wore, but the rage and sheer hate twisting her expression sent a flash of anger through him. 

“Look at you. Think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” 

“What exactly do you want?” Jon demanded. 

“I want you to stop what you’re doing. Maybe he’s too caught up in your bleached hair and half exposed titties to see what you’re doing. He’s fallen into your trap, you got him walking around like a GQ model so he can be your pretty little accessory -“ she broke off as the door to one of the stalls slammed open, and Jon turned to see his mother behind him. 

And she was _angry_. Her grey eyes glittered dangerously. 

“How dare you,” his mother said, her voice fierce and indignant. “The audacity and ignorance to imply that my son is so stupid, so weak, that he would be any woman’s accessory -“

“Have you seen how he’s been parading himself -“ 

“Maybe you forgot he was speaking at a hearing,” Lyanna shot back. “That he would be expected to dress professionally. That this is a party. And everyone here is dressed up. And whether he is dressed as a _GQ model_ or not, the fact that you would judge him as weak and stupid because he’s wearing different clothes, makes me _sick._ You broke up with him. What he wears is none of your damn business. And I’ll tell you something else. He looks _happy._ Maybe that’s what really crawled up your ass. Now if you love him, that’s between you, but if you can’t respect him enough to know him better than what you just said, you have a terrible idea of what love is.” 

Lyanna washed her hands, then put her arm around Jon. “Come on, let’s go.” Jon allowed himself to be steered out of the rest room. Lyanna called back, “and this is her natural hair color. Not bleached. Take your insecurity out on someone else. _Not_ my son or his friend.” 

Jon wanted to hug his mother. He wasn’t sure if that was appropriate. Would Dany hug her? 

“I never liked her,” Lyanna said, and Jon looked at her, surprised. He knew his mother wasn’t Ygritte’s fan, but hadn’t been aware that she actively disliked her. 

“No?” 

“She’s always been disrespectful to him. To his goals, his desires. Mocked him all the time. Laughed outright at him the first time he told her he wanted to build his own house. Expected him to put her above everything else, but was never willing to do the same for him. He loved her, so I was supportive. But she’s never been good to him. I was sorry for his heartbreak when they broke up, but a little relieved, too. He deserves better. Not because she’s from North of the Wall. I didn’t give a damn about that. But because of the way she treated him.” 

Jon wanted to respond, but they were walking toward where Dany stood, and she turned, smiling at both of them. 

“Jon, I may owe you an apology,” Lyanna told her. “I can’t say I’m sorry for what I said, but I do apologize to you.” 

“What happened?” 

“Ygritte stormed into the bathroom and said some very disrespectful things to Daenerys, and it was disrespectful to you as well. And I lost my temper.” 

Dany glanced at Jon, assessing briefly, then smiled at Lyanna, and Jon wondered how she could look so tenderly and lovingly at a woman she didn’t know. 

Was acting part of lawyering? 

“You always stand up for me,” Dany said, reaching over and squeezing Lyanna’s hand. It was true, Jon had told her as much. “I love you. You never need to apologize to me for defending me.” 

Lyanna hugged her, and kissed her cheek. 

“I think Ygritte is jealous, seeing you looking so happy and healthy, and with another woman. Whatever happens, I only want you to be happy. I can’t say I like Ygritte all that much after tonight. And I was never overly fond of her, you know that. But your happiness is the most important thing in the world to me.” 

After a few more minutes, Lyanna left to sit back at her table, where Rhaegar was waiting for her and tapping at his phone. He immediately put his phone into his pocket when Lyanna returned, as if nothing in the world could matter more than whatever she was saying to him.

“I think they might be in love with each other,” Dany noted, watching them. 

“Aye,” Jon said. He had to agree. His mother’s expression was soft, full of affection and happiness. “I’m happy for them. I have to admit I envy them a little.” 

Dany turned to him and her face was full of sympathy. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to Ygritte for you.” 

“No, don’t be,” he said quickly. He could see Ygritte across the room, and she did not look happy at all. He felt for her, but he knew he wasn’t ever going to feel as he had again. 

They stayed for another hour, and then started back to his apartment. They offered Rhaegar and Lyanna a ride, but they’d already hired a car. 

“Dany, I have to tell you something.” 

“Go on.” 

Jon relayed what Tyrion had shared with him. Daenerys listened, then smiled a little. 

“He was always kind to me.” 

“So...you know what happened with Baelish?” 

“I do. It wasn’t unethical per se...but would have been very bad for him as far as publicity. It would have hurt the firm.” 

“Have you thought about setting up your own firm?” 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I felt really lost. Just cut loose, adrift. And now I’m in your body,” she added with a chuckle.

“What will you do when you get it back?” Jon asked. He realized he was barely breathing waiting for her answer. 

“I don’t even know. I don’t think I’ve been in this situation since I was a child. No job. No school. I hope you’ll finish my closet,” she added, smiling at him. 

“Of course,” he said. He realized that if there was a chance she might return his feelings, he would be willing to live there in her city. That if she said she wouldn’t want to ever get married, he would be disappointed, but would want to be with her anyway. 

He said nothing else, just watched the snowy trees outside as they passed. He was tense at the sheer vastness of what he felt. It was overwhelming. 

“What’s wrong?” Dany asked, glancing at him.

“Nothing.” 

“I can see it’s not nothing. If you don’t want to finish it, I understand. I’ll be sad, but -“

“Sad?” He latched onto that as if it was a raft in the sudden roiling sea of emotion. “You could hire someone else.” 

She glanced at him. “I know. I just...” She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t be sorry.” Dany pulled into his driveway, and Jon caught her hand. “What is it?” 

She bit her lip. “I don’t want to make things more complicated than they already are.” 

“I like complicated.” 

She laughed. “No you don’t. You like things to be straightforward. When we get our bodies back, you can hear what Ygritte has to say. And I’ve no doubt she regrets breaking things off with you. A woman doesn’t act like that if she doesn’t have feelings. She loves you, and you love her, and that’s that. You can build your house, and...” she broke off, and Jon had listened intently. She was sad. He could hear it. He hadn’t cried in years, but he knew what it sounded like when it was about to happen. 

“What if I said that I don’t love her anymore? Not like that?” He asked cautiously. 

“It doesn’t just go away -“

“It does. There’s someone else.” 

She looked at him, baffled. “That’s impossible. You’ve been in my body all this time.” 

“Dany...do you...like me?” 

She flushed and turned away. “You know I do.” 

“I meant do you...are you interested in me? Romantically?” 

“Why are you asking me this?” 

“I’m sorry.” He fell back against the seat. “I’m sorry.” He repeated. 

“How could I not be interested in you?” She burst out. “Balls,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Have you seen yourself? You’re fucking beautiful. And you’re kind. And smart. And fun. And you like really good music. You joined a protest to save forests and you set up a hotline to do repairs for people. You designed a house and I...” her voice grew hoarse. 

“Do you like it? The house?”

She had turned away from him and was looking out the window. She nodded. 

She wiped at her eyes impatiently. Then turned back to him. “I do. I love it. I thought about what it would be like to...” she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship. Make you uncomfortable around me now.” 

“I’m in love with you,” he said. 

She stared at him. “Are you fucking with me? Because that would be really mean.” 

“I’m not. I don’t know how this happened so quickly. But I was just sitting here thinking. If you said you never wanted to get married, I think I could live with it. And if you said you wanted to get married tomorrow I’d be at the Godswood tomorrow to do it.” 

“You would marry me?” 

“Aye, without hesitation. But I’m not saying that to pressure you. It’s like I said, I would wait a year or a decade or forever. I just want to be with you.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, and he kissed her back, fiercely. 

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips. 

He suddenly felt light as air. 

Daenerys 

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt this happy, or this excited. She and Jon climbed out of the car, rushing up the stairs and into Jon’s apartment. 

Jon grabbed the whiskey they’d started and two glasses, then followed Dany into the bedroom. 

They stood for a moment, studying each other, then went back to kissing, pulling off each other’s clothes. Strange to be kissing her own mouth with his, but it didn’t matter, it was _him_ she was kissing, his soul as beautiful as his body, and they touched each other, familiar enough with their own bodies to pleasure the other. 

They stopped to drink a little, and Dany was almost delirious with excitement as they worked out the logistics.

Neither of them were virgins, but this was completely new. 

They went back to kissing, to exploring, Jon was gasping as Dany reached her hand down between his legs, and his own hands started to wander as well. 

They were both too caught up to notice any noise, a key turning, a door opening, and were blissfully lost in each other, when a sudden shriek pierced the room. 

“I fucking knew it,” Ygritte screamed from the doorway.

Jon grabbed Dany’s discarded shirt and quickly pulled it on, as Dany pulled on her pants. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked Ygritte, her voice surprisingly calm.

“I let myself in. I knew you were fucking that skank!” 

“If I may remind you, you broke up with me. So I’m having trouble understanding how it’s your business who I fuck.” 

Ygritte turned and stormed from the room, and they could hear crashing and banging. 

“Balls,” Dany muttered, and walked toward the sound, Jon right behind her. Ygritte was throwing things around the living room, smashing picture frames and anything else she could get her hands on. “You need to stop, or I’m calling the police,” she said.

“Oh, you’ll call the cops,” Ygritte snarled at her. “You’re a cop caller now.” 

“You have no right to be here,” Jon said. 

“ _You_ have no right to be here, you shallow cunt!” Ygritte screamed at him. “Why don’t you come closer, bitch? Come say that to my face.” 

“You need to leave,” Dany repeated sternly, and Ygritte picked up a leaded crystal ashtray, hurling at Dany, who ducked out of the way, wincing as she heard it smash behind her.

“You just want to go back to fucking your little whore,” Ygritte snapped. 

“Aye, and that’s near impossible with you here smashing up my apartment,” Dany retorted. 

The sound of sirens approaching made her even angrier, and she turned over the coffee table, and swept her arm across a shelf, knocking everything off, before police entered the room. 

“What’s going on here?” Demanded the officer as he stormed in. “Hey, Jon, Ygritte. Um...” he was looking at Jon. 

“This is Daenerys,” Dany said. 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“You must be Edd,” Jon said.

“Uh, Yeah, I am.” Edd grinned. “How’d you know?” 

“Well, your badge says Tollett, and Jon said -“

“He’s _fucking her,”_ Ygritte spat. 

“Well, so far as I can tell, that’s perfectly legal,” Edd said. “What’s not legal is you storming in here and breaking his property.” 

Ygritte glared at him, then turned and walked out. Edd followed her. Jon and Dany walked to the door, and it didn’t look like Ygritte was going to resist, willingly climbing into the back of Edd’s squad car. 

Dany turned to Jon, who was looking around his destroyed living room. 

“Guess we’d best get this cleaned up,” she said. 

“I’m changing the lock tomorrow,” he said. 

Daenerys found a broom and started sweeping. Jon looked a little dazed. 

“Did she break anything important?” 

“Important?” 

“Well...the pictures themselves are all right. But the frames are broken. That ashtray. Did any of it have sentimental value?” 

He was looking at the broken ashtray now. “Not anymore,” he said. He saw her expression. “Ygritte gave that ashtray to me. Fuck, Dany. She threw it at you. If she’d hit you...”

“She didn’t.” Her heart ached at his expression. “Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll clean this up.” 

“No,” he said, seeming to come back to the present. “No, I’ll help. You shouldn’t even have to -“

“I don’t mind. Has she ever done anything like this before?” 

“No. Well, she always had a temper...she once told me that if I ever betrayed her she’d cut my cock off and wear it around her neck.” 

“Yikes. Well I’m glad she didn’t follow through on that.” 

They both laughed and spent the next few hours cleaning up. They fell into bed, regretfully too exhausted to finish what they’d started. 

“I love you,” he murmured. “Thank you for helping me clean up everything.” 

“I love you, too, Jon.”

**Author's Note:**

> So as not to put anything too heavy into my fluffy crack fic, Jon’s father was a man whose last name was Snow, who died in an accident before he was born, and that’s why Jon’s last name is Snow. Rhaegar was never married, he’s kind of a workaholic. My gf asked if I’m aiming to put him and Lyanna together and it’s possible if the story isn’t too unwieldy adding a whole other romance. As always, ideas and suggestions are welcome!


End file.
